Sable and Scarlet
by Lorithomar
Summary: In the city of Trifas, seventy years after the disaster that was the Third Holy Grail War of Fuyuki, a new War between magi and their summoned heroes begins, while Saints watch...
1. Chapter 1

Sable and Scarlet Chapter 1

The sounds of battle were one thing that ever remain constant throughout the history of the world, though the sources, of course, tended to vary, from sword-clashes, to the whizzing of bullets.

Tonight, however, the sounds of clashing swords and arrows whizzing through the sky were given new life.

Strewn through and about the battlefield were massive red roots that tanlged with equally massive tendrils of clay.

Stony beings and pale soldiers fought with strange automatons made of shimmering gold and silver and bronze, and immaculate biengs with skins of blue and green and other colors.

Near the outskirts of this battle, two knights were both engaged in swordplay so brilliant that it seemed as if their arms were moving faster than could be seen by the naked eye. One was encased in armor darker then the night sky, and the other wore ridged and spiked steel more vibrant than blood.

"Damn you, fake bastard!" The Red Knight screamed.

The Black Knight said nothing.

Teeth gnashing in rage, the red knight's horned helmet disassembled into her armor, revealing her pale face, messy blonde hair, and emerald-colored eyes. With a snarl of rage, she gripped her tarnished sword in both of her metal-sheathed hands and raised it high. As she did, she bellowed out three words, and those three words that she screamed were full of bloodlust, hatred, and, somehow, a bit of sadness, as a great pillar of red lightning arced up from the blade.

 **Clarent Blood Arthur!**

In response, a cold and heavy wind gathered about the sword clasped in the Black Knight's clawed hands, and it coalesced into an unholy collection of scarlet and gold and sable that towered into the sky, ready to come down upon the Crimson Knight like a mighty and wrathful hammer. As it did, the sword's wielder shouted two words, and they only served to enrage the Red Knight even more.

With a sound that sounded like the roar of two mighty dragons, the two pillars of red and hatred collided…

" **Arrrrthurrrr!"**

* * *

 _1939_

Above, the night sky was clear and pristine, with a countless multitude of star glimmering in the black velvet of space, like tiny diamonds.

Below, a city burned.

In the cockpit of the zeppelin, the Facist commander nodded with pride at their accomplishment. They had done it. They had won the ultimate prize.

Soon, the Third Reich would truly reign supreme for a thousand years!

He tunred to look upon a man dressed in a near identical uniform. This man was somewhat thin, and blue hair that looked like it had been shorn off some time ago, and was only now starting to grow back. Upon his uniform was a bright yellow star.

"Gut gemacht, Herr Prestone, (Well done, Mr. Prestone)" the commander said. "Dein Plan hat perfekt funktioniert. Vielleicht haben Sie doch Juden, oder (Your plan worked perfectly. Meybe you jews have some uses after all, no)?"

"Tatsächlich (Indeed)," said the man, in a quiet voice, as he looked out over the burning city beneath them. "Wie immer sind lhre lnstinkte genau, Kommandant, und lhr Lob ist wirklich berührend (As always, your instincts are accurate, Commander, and your praise is really touching)."

As the commander tunred back with a content smirk, he took another look down at their prize, the result of two bloody weeks worth of fighting.

Suspended by wires between several zeppelins was the prize that would grant them victory in the conquests to come.

Der Heilige Gral. The Holy Grail.

The Furher would be most pleas….

The sound of a firing luger rang out, and pain exploded in his shoulder.

 _Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!_

With various expressions of shock on their faces, each of the German crew members collapsed to the ground, bullet holes in either their chests or their heads.

Only two remained alive in the cockpit, the man with the blue hair, and the Nazi commander. The commander clutched a hand over the wound in his shoulder.

"Was bedeutet dieser verrat, du verdammter Jude (What is the meaning of this betrayal, you damned Jew)?!"

In response, the blue haired man shot him in his other shoulder, eliciting a scream of pain. The shooter then began to walk forward, firing more bullets as he spoke.

"Hast du wirklich geglaubt, dass ich den Heiligen Gral in die schmuddeligen kleinen Höhlen deines geliebten Furher bringen würde? Dass ich freiwillig so etwas für die Dörfer tun würde, die mein Volk und meine Familie wie Tiere in die Ghettos und in die Vernichtungslager geschickt haben ?! Warst du wirklich alle so arrogant und verblüfft zu glauben, ich hätte dich aus einer perversen Loyalität zu deinen Monstern in menschlicher Haut unterstützt? ! **Warst du?! (** Did you really believe that I would bring the Holy Grail into the grubby little hands of your beloved Furher? That I would do so voluntarily for the monsters and villains that have sent my people and my family like animals to the ghettos and extermination camps ?! Were you all really so arrogant as to think that I had helped you out of a perverse loyalty to you monsters in human skin?! **Were you?!** )"

He kept firing until the empty _click-click_ of the trigger echoed throughtout the airship.

After a moment, he drew in a deep breath, ripped the fascist symbol off his shoulder, and then went to the radio, and wired the correct transmission.

"Det är klart, Caster. Vad sägs om din ände (It is done, Caster. How are things on your end)?" he asked, in accented Swedish.

 _"Ja,"_ came a smooth voice from the other end. _"_ _Besättningen har alla neutraliserats och ersatts med homunculi. Den Heliga Grailen är vår, Darnic. Vad är dina order (_ The crews have all been neutralized and replaced with homunculi. The Holy Grail is ours, Darnic. What are your orders?) _?"_

Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia was silent for a long moment, as he survey the bodies of the men that he had just executed in cold and bloody vengeance. "Vi går hem och förbereder oss (We go home, and prepare)."

* * *

 _Seventy years later, and two months before the Great Holy Grail War_

Santiago Baltierra had served in the Magus Association Enforcers for nearly twenty years, as his ancestors had, for nearly 50 generations. It was a hard job, but one that he took to with a certain amount of relish. The Magus often found it best to approach it with a professional detachment from all emotions. However, he would admit, to a very small, very select, number of individuals, that he did take pride in what he did, since it was also a family tradition, and that he was not appreciative of any outsiders interfering with the duties of he and his fellows.

To keep his mind busy and sharp, he unconsciously stroked his mustache as he went over his specialized Mystic Code: The Sky Deniers. They were a pair of leather gloves inscribed with tiny runes, which had been passed down through his family for generations, along with his family's magic crest. The gloves allowed the user the ability to manipulate air and wind both offensively and defensively. This code, when coupled with his elemental affinity, "Wind," made him nearly invincible anywhere where air existed. They were part of how he had attained the moniker "Wind King."

These, along with his other weapons, and his comrades, made him feel like he could take on anything.

Stirring himself from his ruminations, Santiago looked around in his cabin. Bunking with him were a few of his fellow enforcers, people who he had worked with the pas, and worked with them well; Kazehara Stone, Sergei Strezenov, and Euginia Wordsworth. Together, they were known as "The Four Elementals." Others were in the adjoining cabins, numbering to about fifty or so. They would be all that was needed to infiltrate the Nation of the Millennium Tree.

Sergei, a solid Slavic man of Fifty years, was in the cabin's small bathroom, shaving his chin and head with a straight razor held expertly in his tattooed hands, which were courtesy of some years of his youth that he had spent in the Siberian prison Krasnoyarsk, before he had broken himself out, without the use of his magecraft. The razor was held straight and unwavering as he shaved against the grain, despite the constant rocking of the ship as it began to surface, a few hundred miles off the coast of Romania.

The middle-aged Slav was as solid in demeanor as his frame, which was reflected in his dual affinities, "Ice" and "Stone." He was cold, yet sturdy, and always reliable on a mission, or in a fight.

Kazehara and Euginia were seated on their beds, going over files and weapons. Kazehara was a tiny, almost petite woman, barely topping 4"9', and was of English and Japanese heritage. Despite her tiny stature, she had an impressive body count to her name and reputation, and that bloody ledger was full of the names of rouge magi, Sealing Designates too dangerous to live, and even half a dozen Dead Apostles. She was strong, yet fluid, and adept in over a dozen languages, as well as begin a great master of disguise. Her affinity was "Water," while her origin was "Fluidity."

Euginia was a woman as fiery as her hair. The Englishwoman held a certain infamy within the clocktower for her "scorched-earth" tactics when on mission, and, as such, was often use as a weapon of last resort. Patches of her pale skin were marred by burn marks, both horrific, and cosmetic. Despite her infamy, she was, for the most part, a genial sort of person. Her origin was "Immolation."

The four were legendary for their teamwork, abilities, and resilience. They, along with the others, would complete their task in no time.

Ordinarily, a seaside passage from England to Romania would have taken a few months at best, but this was no ordinary sort of boat that the taskforce was traveling aboard. Specifically crafted by the alchemists and builders of the Atlas institute, the Roamer could cut such a trip down to a few days, mostly by transforming itself into a submersible that was undetectable to ordinary radar. It could increase its speed and ignore the currents by hooking absorbing ambient prana from the ocean, and subtly redirecting them towards the vehicle's favor.

A few weeks ago, the organization known as Yggdmillennia, a ragtag collections of degraded and subpar bloodlines, had declared its sessesion from the Magus Association, as well as the fac that it held in it's possession the Holy Grail.

Moments later, the intercom blared, and the captain's voice announced that they were drawing closer to the shoreline.

The journey from the beach to the forest was uneventful and quiet. As the team of fifty top enforcers entered the forest, however, there came several loud zipping noises.

Then, three of their fellow enforcers fell to the ground with large holes in their heads.

Before anyone else could react, from the ground shot massive red tree roots.

Santiago then heard Sergei grunt in pain as a branch impaled him through his chest, and he then expired, along with Eugenia and Kazehara, as their bodies were riddled with bullets.

The rest swiftly died from either branch or bullet. Soon, Santiago found himself alone, a bullet hole in his shoulder, and his back up against a tree.

From the dark of the forest emerged a small group of soldiers, dressed in black camouflage and armor. Alongside them was a tall and muscular man, and another, the one that Santiago and the now fifty dead magi had been sent to arrest.

The last thing Santiago saw before blacking out was Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia, walking towards him, and a frown on his face…..

* * *

 _Several Weeks later_

The vehicle was a common european model, and thus nothing out of the ordinary. To it's driver, that was exactly how he preferred it.

Soon, he approached a checkpoint. As he slowed his vehicle to a stop, the burly man took note of the heavily armed and armored soldiers. Their baliistic armor, head-and-face-encompasing helmets were all colored white, with the insignia of a golden tree on their chests.

Their large guns definlety did not escape his notice.

The nearest soldier approached the vehicle and lightly rapped on the window. Without hesitation, Kairi rolled it down.

In the distance, the cello-like sounds of grasshoppers could be heard.

"Motivul pentru care vizitați România (What is your reason for coming to Romania)?" the soldier asked. He did his best to look jovial and nonchalant as he answered in their native tounge. "Știi ... să faci o sărbătoare personală. A se vedea atracțiile, au niște mâncare bună ... știi (You know... just taking a personal holiday. See the sights, and have some good food... you know)?"

Though their faces were covered, Kairi Sisigou could tell that the guards were not amused.

"Hartii, va rog (Papers, please)."

Without another word, he handed them his papers.

He watched, with both hands on the wheel, as the soldiers dook the documents, and looked them over.

Five minutes passed…. Then ten… fifteen…

As the clock neared the twenty minute mark. Kairi was sure that things were going to get a whole lot more complicated, messy, and violent.

Then, the helmeted soldier handed him back his papers, the gate opened, and he was waved along.

As he drove through the open gate, the Necromancer breathed a sigh of relief.

That had been close.

Now that he was in Romania, though? Now came the hard part.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

It was a lovely evening, Darnic mused.

From the window, he observed as night settled upon the land of Romania, his Romania.

Idly, he glanced down at his command seals; five black markings upon his flesh that were wrought in the intricate shape of a spear-like tree with extending branches.

It had been so long; almost a century, since that moment when those pathetic rats of the Magus Association cast him out, all because they predicted that his clan was doomed to fall into nothingness.

To Darnic, that had felt like a death, his first death, since those same rats once believed that he had been destined for greatness, until the moment when they had cast him and his family aside like so much garbage.

It had been then been seventy years ago, when he had watched his people begin to become demonized, and rounded up into the cattle cars, and he had then forced himself to collaborate with the monsters responsible for it all.

Seventy years since the night that he stabbed them all in the back, and took the greatest prize of all for himself, as well as taking control of the nation of Romanina, and building it up into the great power that it was today, rivaling that of Rommel's kingdom, or the Russian Empire.

Unconsciously, as he often did, the ruler of Romania gripped his left forearm, even as the memory of the Nazi's screams brought a small smile to his face.

One could never completely leave Hell, after all.

The smell of the furnaces….

He shook his head, in an attempt to divest himself of those dark memories. This Holy Grail War would go perfectly and culminate in the complete and total victory of Yggdmillennia.

It had to, after everything that he had sacrificed, and all the horror and degredatios ntaht he had suffered.

He then looked over to the chess board in his room and the two who occupied it at the current moment. Both radiated a sort of aura that spoke of great age, renown, and legend.

Of course, that was to be expected, as both were Heroic Spirits, and Servants of the forthcoming Holy Grail War.

The first man was decently tall, and, indeed, was possessed of such delicate features that it would not have been too much of a stretch of the imagination to mistake him for a handsome woman. He had long, grayish-blue hair that was streaked with silver, and it was currently tied up

He was garbed in a long white coat, which was emblazoned with the symbol of the golden tree. Underneath the coat were serviceable robes, pants, and a tough leather apron. Sheathed at his side, oddly enough, was a short sword. He wore long, fingerless gloves, and upon his face was a small, content smile.

This man was none other than Paracelsus von Hohenheim, the famed physician and Alchemist, and one of the few heroes known to be in both recorded fact and legend, and he had been Darnic's Servant for the past Sixty years, as well as one of his chief supporters, if not friend.

The opponent of the Father of Alchemy was a rather bizarre figure. Every inch was covered in tight blue clothing. Most bizarre, however, were his horned and featureless gold mask, his long blue cloak with his spiked golden shoulder pieces, the massive green gem that glowed in the center of his chest, and, of course, the fact that he had four arms.

This strange sight was the famed Spanish philosopher and golem-maker known as Solomon ibn Gabriol, or Avicebron, as he preferred to be called.

These two were the Caster-class Servants of the Greater Holy Grail War.

Hohenheim was the first to speak, as he moved forward his black bishop, which was wrought in the shape of an elderly wizard with a beard. "You should not fret so much, Darnic. Everything is progressing well ahead of schedule."

"Indeed. Even I can vouch for my fellow Caster's assertations, despite not being one of optimism towards anything," Avicebron added, as he moved forward his own bishop.

The two had been playing for almost an hour now.

"Perhaps, but I am not entirely convinced that my faction will emerge as the victors just yet. It is yet early, and I have learned from personal experience that things can change in an instant, whether it be plans for battle, or even one's standing in society."

 _Cattle cars stuffed to full capacity…. Those damning words over the cold gates… the furnaces…._

He shook his head to clear his mind. "Never the less, I understand your opitimisim, Casters, and I can honestly say that our chances are better than most. With the servants that we summon tonight, I will be one step closer to attaining that which all of my kind seek: The Swirl of the Root, that which lies at the center of Existence itself, and the key to true Magic itself. Nothing, especially those worms of the Association, will stand in my way."

He then tunred back to consider the view, and his nation. "For seventy years, I have been preparing. Preparing for this moment, right here in the city of Trifas. It is what sets me apart from all the previous participants of this war, because unlike them, I know what I am getting into. I have been patient, and waiting. So now, this time, I am prepared. This time, I am ready. My opponents in this war, however, will be greatly unprepared for what is to come."

"And am I, and the homunculi system you put into place, a part of those preparations, Lord Darnic?" Avicebron inquired, while he took Paracelsus' rook with a pawn.

Knight took rook, and this time Paracelsus answered. "Indeed. You, whose mastery in golemcraft surpassed that of any who came before or after, even me, if I might be so humble."

"As for the homunculi system," Darnic continued. "It is our best option. After all, the more powerful a Servant, the more energy that is required to maintin its existence. With the hpmunicli to act as batteries, you and the other servants of our faction will be free to utilize all your abilities to your heart's content without the risk of draining your masters dry, and allowing we, your masters to fully utilize our mage craft without fear."

Soon, there were no pieces left on the board, save for the Red and Black Kings.

The game was a draw.

Paracelsus nodded to Avicebron. "A very excellent game, my friend."

At that moment, the room's grandfather clock struck twelve, and then the door was opened, and in walked a boy no more than thirteen years of age.

"Master Darnic, Teachers?"

Pracelsus looked up and greeted the boy with a small smile. "Yes, Roche?"

"Everyone's ready."

Darnic nodded at that, and then at the two Casters. "Very good. Shall we be off, my friends?"

As they proceeded dwon the ornate hallway, Darnic idly noted the many guards posted about. Every ten feet were positioned homunculi armored in tactical gear and a small assortment of firearms. Some even held halberds. Their vests and helmets were all emblazoned with a golden tree. The symbol of Yggdmillennia, as well as the emblem of the sovereign nation of Romania.

Roche then strode up beside Avicebron. "Teacher Avicebron, I thought you would like to know that the rest of the materials that you requested have arrived. Now, you'll be able to complete your Noble Phantasm, right?"

"Not quite," replied the Maksed Man. "There is still one more compenent that is required in order for it to be fully completed and realized."

"You are referring to the Reactor core, correct?" asked Pracelsus.

"Indeed. Like any living being, that golem requires a heart. Thus, once we find a creature with compatible magic circuits, then Golem Keter Malkuth will be able to be activated."

It hen clicked for Roche. "I get it now. That's why you've been so picky about selecting the homunculi."

Darnic then interjected. "Roche, where is Jinako? Your cousin and her Servant should be here with us to witness this."

Roche scratched his head in embarrassment. "Yeah… she and Assassin are holed up in her room, and nothing I say can make them come out. You know how she is, after all."

Honestly, that lazy girl. Only she would summon a Servant that was an equally as lazy shut-in as herself.

Darnic almost felt the start of a headache coming on, but the sensation soon passed as the group entered the castle's summoning chamber

Standing atop the dais in the back of the large room, wihi his body set in a proud stance, was a man who seemed to ooze pure charisma and triumph from every pore of his perfect body. Indeed, the reason that he did not sit was due to the simple fact that it seemed as if no throne, no matter how grandiose, could support his brilliance. His green and gold clothing was tight across his golden skin and seemed to take any opportunity to showcase and show off his muscular form, and thus left very little to imagination. His eyes were pure black, save for his red irises. Upon his head was a strange thing that seemed a mixture of a crown and a roman helmet that was adorned with a large single red horn. About his broad shoulders was a crimson mantle.

This was Darnic's other Servant, the Lancer of Black.

As he saw the small group approach, his face broke out into a smile that was as dazzling and as radiant as the sun itself. "Ah, good friends and subordinates! The presence of you all truly warms the heart of Rome."

"Think nothing of it, Emperor Romulus," Darnic said, with a bow, which was mirrored by Pracelsus and Caster. Roche being Roche, of course, just stood by awkwardly.

As he rose form his bow, and took his place beside his Servant, Darnic surveyed the remainder of the Masters of the Black Faction of Yggdmillennia.

Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia, a rotund man of thirty-six years with blonde hair, and a small, waxed blonde mustache that was reminiscent of a famed British film star, stood impatiently, fidgint about and mumbling to himself with a sneer on his face. Despite a rather prodigious talent in alchemy, Gordes suffered from that rather unfortunate condition known worldwide as an overinflated ego, though, in Gordes case, Darnic was surprised that the metaphorical balloon had not already burst years ago. Despite his faults, the Alchemist was still rather useful.

Gordes' catalyst was a sheath, one of the things that had been among the many artifacts and pieces of knowledge that that the portly man, with Darnic's assistance, had managed to pilfer from the degrading Einzbern family. It was a beautiful and terrible thing of gold, blue, white, red, and black.

Darnic's young, and quite second-rate grandson, Caules, a brown-haired teenager with glasses, had been given a piece of ancient, crumbling armor of an eastern design. It had been procured by his sister, Fiore who, though wheelchair bound, was superior to her brother in nearly every way. Darnic had made her his heir for a reason, after all. The boy's catalyst had been prcured alongside her own; a fragment of an ancient Greek bow.

Finally, there was Ophelia Phamrsolone Fraga Icecole Yggdmillenia, a rather pretty young woman who was only two years older than Darnic's grandchildren. Her shoulder-length hair was brown and interspersed with red and grey stripes. Over one of her eyes was a rather ordinary eyepatch.

The girl held in her gloved hand a pair of metal earrings for her summoning. These were from one of her three parent bloodlines, a formerly isolated magi clan that, though they had not been in decline, had been slighted one too many times by the Association, and thus had agreed to be absorbed into the Yggdmillennia organization, albeit very reluctantly, and after much monetary and personal payment and negotiation. Ophelia had been one of the more promising results from the Icecolle, Phamrsolone and Fraga bloodlines mixing, upon Darnic's orders, of course. She, and her relatives; Bazett, and Bazett's late sister, Celenike, were all quite adept at both Curses and Runecraft.

Of course, with Ophelia, there was also her trump cards…

From the platform, Darnic, Da Vinci, and the kingly servant all watched with anticipation, as Ophelia, Gordes, Caules, and Fiore each began to chant, as a black glow burst form the circles engraved into the floor…

 _Let silver and steel be the essence.  
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.  
Let Black be the color I pay tribute to.  
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.  
Let the four cardinal gates close.  
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

 _I hereby declare.  
Your body shall serve under me.  
My fate shall be your sword.  
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.  
If you will submit to this will and this reason…then answer!_

 _An oath shall be sworn here!  
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.  
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!_

 _From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,  
come forth from the ring of restraints,  
Protector of the Holy Balance!_

* * *

 _Biscerica din Deal_

The man looked up at the night sky.

It was a very beautiful night.

"You called for me, dearie?' came an aged voice from behind him, along with the _tap-tap-tapping_ of a cane against the paved stoen floor.

The stargazer turned towards the speaker, and inclind his masked face tword the voice's owner. "Indeed. I have just recived the most interesting news; it seems that that the final Red master has arrived in Romania."

"Is that so? Then it seems things have finally begun to move forward."

The masked man then turned back towards the night sky. "Yes. The time has finally come for our War to begin…"

* * *

 _Graveyard of Bucharest_

For a long moment, Kairi did nothing, except sit and enjoy the acrid feel and taste of the nicotine smoke entering his lungs from the cancer stick. As he did, the necromancer stared at the catalyst that he had been given. To the average observer, it seemed like an ordinary piece of wood, old and well preserved. In a way, it was, but, according to the old man, it was also so much more. A fragment of the most important and famous object in history… the Round table.

The necromancer than turned his thoughts to why he was here, why he had been given the catalyst in the first place, and why he had etched the summoning circle into the ground of the graveyard.

The Holy Grail War, a secret bloodbath and death contest which was, for all intense purposes, a glorified battle royal between seven magi and the ancient heroes that they summoned, all for the chance at the ultimate prize; a Wish. This was a one-in-seven, or, in this case, one-in-fourteen, chance for the deepest desires of the victor's heart to be made manifest.

One could argue that it was worth it, the risk of death. A Wish was certainly one hell of a prize to kill for, and people had been known to do worse things for lesser prizes and goal.

The mercenary glanced at the crimson seals on his hand.

Was it possible. Did he dare enteraint the notion that he could hold the grail in these hands?

Yeah. He believed it.

The Necromancer took one last drag before he crushed the spent cancer stick in his hand. He then stood up, looked over the circle that he had etched into the ground one last time, adjusted his sunglasses, stretched out his hand, and began to recite the chant that he had been given Old Man Belfaban, and a bloody crimson glow shot up from the ground…

 _Let silver and steel be the essence.  
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.  
Let Red be the color I pay tribute to.  
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.  
Let the four cardinal gates close.  
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate._

 _I hereby declare.  
Your body shall serve under me.  
My fate shall be your sword.  
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.  
If you will submit to this will and this reason…then answer!_

 _An oath shall be sworn here!  
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.  
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!_

 _From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,  
come forth from the ring of restraints,  
Protector of the Holy Balance!_

* * *

When the black glow faded, the Yggdmillennia masters were each greeted with the sight of the new Servants of Black….

* * *

 _Gordes_

The figure wore spiked and ridged and curved armor that was all at once knightly, kingly, dark, and wild, with red and dark gold veins spreading out through it, while upon his shoulders was a great dark black mantle of leather and fur. Between the armor was a dark red and black tabard, emblazoned with the symbol of a roaring red and white dragon. Encasing his head and face was a helmet that seemed a strange and seamless fusion between a dragon, and a lion, with six vertical spikes jutting up in the shape of a crown.

Oddly enough, he was mounted upon a steed of black and white that was caparisoned in barding of silver and onyx and dark iron. An aura of dark majesty just radiated from every inch of this Servant's being. The horse tossed its armored head imperiously, it's eyes, a strange mixture of blue and red, were full of a strange and equine bloodlust, as they stared out from beneath a helmet wrought in the shape of a dragon's skull.

The Servant's clawed gauntlets were empty, save for the reins of his mount.

Despite himself, Gordes felt a deep chill run down his spine when the Servant's visor turned towards him briefly, as he surveyed the rest of the Black Faction. He couldn't even see past the shadows inside the visor.

Was this Saber?

* * *

 _Fiore_

Fiore' Servant was positively massive in height and mass, nearly three meters tall in fact, with shining skin that was a seamless mixture of burnished bronze and gleaming iron.

He wore a mantle across his shoulders that was crafted from the pelt of a golden lion, with the head of the great beast resting behind his neck, alongside long and functional robes that left his chest bare. His feet were adorned with open-toed sandals that wrapped around his ankles, and a crimson sash draped about his waist, with a matching one wrapped tightly around his arm, from knuckle to upper bicep, while his left was wrapped with a cloth of black.

In one of his mighty hands, he held a large, beautiful and deadly bow that seemed longer than he was tall, while belted at his waist was a great quiver of steel and leather, filled to the brim with expertly crafted arrows fletched with blue feathers. His face was framed by a long mane of black hair, which rivaled that of the beast whose pelt he wore, alongside an intricate red tattoo that spiraled across his entire form.

His face, while not necessarily handsome, was well chiseled and perfectly proportioned, like a god's, as was the rest of his figure, as if he had been carved from solid rock, metal, muscle, and marble. Indeed, he seemed less a man, and more like the statue of a proud and noble deity. His golden eyes were quite sharp, and within those large orbs danced an abundance of good humor, noble kindness, and an undauntable valor.

He looked down upon his wheelchair-bound master, as she craned her neck to look up at him with more than a bit of awe.

He smiled, a warm thing full of kind and paternal feelings, and she smiled back.

Fiore had summoned her Archer.

* * *

 _Ophelia_

Standing before Ophelia was a man who could not have been any older that his late twenties. He was tall, lean and muscular, like a wolfhound, and clad in Nordic-and-knightly-looking armor of blue and brown steel and leather and chain and strange runes, over and under which were long, sky-blue robes of powerful leather and metal studs.

A mighty cloak and fur hood of blue, trimmed and chased with gold and white and silver, clasped together with a golden brooch, helped to complete the ensemble and image of a powerful warrior-prince. Across his waist was a wide, white belt of scale-like links, ad slung through it were several throwing axes. One of his pauldrons was wrought in the shape of a wolf's snarling head.

His hair was both a deep cerulean and a snowy white, long, and tied back on his scalp in a rough and messy wolf's tail-like collection of plaited braids that reached his lower back. The rest of his hair at his temples had been shorn off around his scalp, with the bare flesh being covered by intricate red-and-blue tattoos in the shape of snarling wolves that ran down his neck. The lower portion of his face was covered by a short beard the same color as his hair. The Servant's left arm was gauntleted in metal, and his right lightly sheathed in a leather glove and vambrace.

Both his ears were pierced with two pairs of earrings; two were small cylinders, and the other two were small rings, while around his neck was a visible medallion finely wrought in the shape of a wolf's head clutching a crescent moon in its jaws. Under his icy blue, slit eyes were intricate red markings that went down his cheeks, and disappeared down his neck as well.

His left arm held bound to it an ordinary Norse shield. This was not a barrier that contained a world, nor one that represented the ultimate protection of a distant utopia's fortress. It was just a simple, round thing of metal, leather, and wood used to turn aside weapons both mighty and small. Clutched in his right hand, and resting on his shoulder was a large dane axe.

This warrior gave off the impression of a mighty war-beast, one that was noble in mien and bearing, but could also be an absolute terror on the battlefield if the need arose and would not hesitate in devouring his enemies. He looked about and gave a flippant wave and a fanged smirk at his fellow servants and the other masters, almost as if he were sizing them up for latter battle, while his shield dematerialized into blue motes, ready to be used at a later time. When he chuckled, his breath was visible, as if her were breathing out cold air. Indeed, slight bits of frost seemd to cling to his clothes and person, despite the warm temperatures of the castle's interior.

Ophelia couldn't keep the excitement off her face. She had done it! Rider had arrived!

* * *

 _Caules_

The Servant that Caules had summoned was a…. generously endowed woman covered in leather and metal armor of eastern make that strained against her generous assets, as well as the rest of her shapely figure. Her hair was purple, and long enough to reach her ankles. She was tall and had a good amount of muscle on her beautiful frame. At her waist was a quiver full of arrows, a longbow, and a long katana.

Before Caules could react, the tall woman looked at him, smiled, then swiftly encased and enveloped him in a tight hug against her chest.

It… was getting hard to breathe!

* * *

Standing before Kairi was a figure clad from head to toe in red and silver armor that seemed to be all sharp edges, spikes, and spines and shine.

Clasped in its clawed hands was a sword that, at one point, may have been a beautiful piece of metalwork, but, now, though still strong, was tarnished, and even rusted in some places, beyond repair.

The figure looked at him, exhaled, and thens its horned helmet began to retract into its armor.

The face that was now bare to the world was one that was at once both boyish and feminine, with pale skin, bloodshot and emerald eyes with heavy bags under them, and a long and messy shock of dirty blonde hair.

She looked at him, and then chuckled, the sound like steel scraping against steel. "I am Mordred, killer of Kings, the one true heir of Arthur Pendragon, and the Saber of Red for this Holy Grail War. I ask of you, are you the one who calls himself my Master?"

Huh.

* * *

 **A/N: NEW STORY!**

 **Anyway, read, review, and enjoy! See if you can guess who the new Servants are.**

* * *

Lancer: Romulus

Master: Darnic

STATS

STR: B+

END: A+

AGI: A+  
MAN: A+

LCK: B+

N.P.: A++

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: B+

Territory Creation: EX

 **Personal Skills**

Natural Body: C

Imperial Privilege: EX

Septem Colles: A

Howl of the War God: A+

 **Noble Phantasm**

Magna Voluisse Magnum: A++ (Anti-Army)

Moles Necessrie: B (Barrier)

* * *

1st Caster of Black: Avicebron

Master: Roche

 **STATS**

STR: E

END: E

AGI: D

MAN: A  
LCK: B

NP: A+

 **Class Skills**

Item Construction: B+

Territory creation: B

 **Personal Skills**

Numerology: B

High-Speed Incantation: B+

Tranquil Fig: EX

 **Noble Phantasm**

Golem Keter Malkuth: A+

* * *

2nd Caster of Black: Paracelsus

Master: Philosopher's Stone/ Darnic

 **STATS**

STR: D  
END: E  
AGI: C  
MAN: A  
LCK: B  
NP: A+

 **Class Skills**

Item Construction: EX

Territory Creation: A

 **Personal Skills**

High-Speed Incantation: A

Elemental: A+

Philosopher's Stone: A

 **Noble Phantasm**

Sword of Paracelsus: A+

* * *

Saber of Red: Mordred

Master: Kairi

Stats

STR: A+

END: A+

AGI: A+

MAN: B+

LCK: D

NP: A+

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: B

Riding: B

Berserk: EX

 **Personal Skills**

Instinct: B

Mana Burst: A

Battle Continuation: B

Charisma: C-

Nature of a Rebellious Spirit: A+

 **Noble Phantasms**

Secret of Pedigree: C

Clarent: C

Clarent Blood Arthur: A+

Rage of Camlann: EX (Available only upon english soil)


	2. Chapter 2

Sable and Scarlet Chpater 2

 _As they led her through the streets, some of the people jeered at her, and called her all sorts of names._

 _Others simply wept at her fate._

 _Through it all, she simply walked, and kept her gaze forward. Even, when some among the crowd chucked stones at her._

 _She didn't flinch._

 _As she and her guard came closer to the stake, she looked down at her calloused and scarred hands._

 _She then raised her head. "_ _À travers!_ S'il vous plaît, _est-ce que quelqu'un a une croix (A cross! Please, does anyone have a cross?)_ _At first, no one answered her plea. Then, a young girl detached herself from the crowd, and ran to her. The girl placed a small wooden cross into her hands._ _At that moment, it was more beautiful than the purest of gold._

 _As they bound her to the stake with strong ropes, she was unafraid, and still_

 _As the flames licked all about her, she held the cross close to her chest, and prayed._

 _A grasshopper flew by her._

 _Then, though there was heat, there was no pain…._

* * *

 _They had tortured him and had given him plenty of chance to "repent," and embrace the pantheon of Olympus. Some had truly believed that they were trying to save his soul from their Hades, and from the depths of Tartarus for heresy._

 _Yet, all he could do was simply refuse. He had his faith in God and his Son and his Angels._

 _Today, though, it would be different._

 _As he would not become an apostate, he was to die by beheading._

 _Before the sun rose, he was woken from his sleep, dragged through the streets, and set upon the block. He did not_ _struggle even once. There was no need to do so._

 _He had faith._

 _As he laid his head upon the block, the last thing that he saw was the sight of the rising sun, breaking out over a new day._

 _It was such a beautiful sight._

 _Truly, the Lord's creations were ever wonderous to behold, even in the darkest of circumstances._

 _Despite himself, he still found it within himself to smile. As he did, he saw a grasshopper land in front of him._

 _A moment later, he felt no more._

* * *

 _Millennia Castle, Now_

As the newly summoned heroes acquainted themselves to their new surroundings (save for Berserker, who was busy suffocating Caules against her generous _assets_ , all the while swinging him from side to side with a smile on her face), Lancer stood up and spread his golden arms wide. "Rome welcomes you one and all, great and mighty Heroes of Legend, to this great and mighty Faction of the Black. As we prepare to surge forth a destroy all that would dare to stand before us, let our true identities be given to one another in good faith, so that no secrets will be had between us! Rome shall go first, for his true identity is none other than that of Romulus, son of Mars and the Mother Wolf, and founder of the greatest empire in the history of the world!"

The giant Archer was then first to speak, with a noble smile upon his face, as he bowed to the Founder of Rome. "I bid you greetings, Founder of Rome. I am Heracles, Son of Zeus, and I am of the Archer class. My bow and arrows are yours, as well as my Master's, my Nephew."

Romulus's smile was a radiant thing. "Rome bid you great greetings, my uncle and blood!"

The blue-and-white-haired man decided to go next and gave a flippant wave. "Yo. The name's Vánagandr. Rider class. Just point me in the enemy's direction, let me do my thing, and you'll win this war in no time, at least as long as I have food and enemies to eat! Like the big guy said, you have my weapons at the ready!"

"Indeed! Rome promises great battles to come, mighty wolf!"

The tall woman ceased in her aggressive hugging of Caules, letting the very red-faced boy fall to the ground, gasping for breath. "Hello, little dears. Mother will be sure to take care of everyone. My name is Ushi-Gozen, a Berserker, but you all can just call me mama."

"Hahaha! A mother's love will be a terrifying thing on the battlefield, Oni-slayer!"

From atop his steed, Gordes' servant looked about. Then he spoke, in a distorted and metallic voice. "I would prefer to not disclose my identity at this time. I am Servant Saber, and that is all that you humans are required to know."

Gordes grit his teeth at his servant's impudence, though he was quickly silenced when the Servant of the Sword looked his way again.

Romulus laughed uproariously. "Very well, then our alliance is solidified! Let all who dare stand against us fall before the might of this Black Faction!"

* * *

Once the new Master-Servant pairs had dispersed to their various parts of the castle, Romulus remained where he stood, stroking his chin, and with a wide smile still upon his face.

"Rome is mightily pleased, Darnic, with our new allies! They are great and powerful warriors, one and all!"

"Your praise is a truly inspiring and touching reward in and of itself, my Emperor."

* * *

For a moment, Kairi just stared at his newly summoned Servant.

Mordred, the bastard son of king Arthur, was a girl, and summoned in the Saber class no less?

Things had just gotten interesting.

In the next moment, her armor dissipated into red sparks, leaving her clothed in padded suit and trousers and boots that he had seen knights wear under their plate armor. Like her amor, it was also all red.

Kairi then spoke and held out his hand with a smile. "Yeah, I'm your master. The name's Kairi Sisigou. It a pleasure to meet you."

Instead of shaking the proffered hand, Saber instead just stared at it for a long moment, and then at him, and then around at where she had been summoned.

She then grunted in distaste. "This is really a fucking dismal place. Are you a necromancer or something?"

Huh, for a Berserker, a class known for their insanity, she had good intuition.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "You're right about that. Growing up, I spent a great deal of my childhood around corpses and other dead things."

He then looked her over again. "Man, though. Who would have ever thought that Mordred, the son of King Arthur…."

The next thing he knew, her very large, and still very sharp, sword was at his throat, and a loof of boundless fury was etched into Mordred's face. "Do. Not. _Ever._ Mention that name in my presence again, or so help me, I will not restrain myself a second time."

As Kairi raised his hands in surrender, Mordred then turned, and noticed the fragment of the round table that he had used as a catalyst.

Without a sound, the Knight of Treachy slowly walked up to it.

Before Kairi knew it, her sword had already smashed down upon both the relic, and the gravestone upon which it rested.

Again, and again, she smashed he sword against the ground, all the while wordlessly screaming in rage. After a full two minutes of this, she finally stopped, and let loose a great and shuddering sigh.

She then turned back to Kairi, who had dared not utter a word. "My apologies for that outburst Master. I just can't stand anything that reminds me of knighthood, that fucking table, or of _him_."

She then dematerialized her large sword, walked right back up to him, and gave a bright smile, as if her outburst had not just happened. "Now, then, let's go win this War! I could do with a good challenge!"

Yeah…. Things had definitely gotten interesting.

He also decided that perhaps it was best if he kept his observation that Mordred was a woman to himself.

Still, he could not help but smile at her tenacity and fervor. "A challenge huh?"

She must have noticed the look on his face, as a frown then grew on her own. "What is it?" she asked, in a low tone.

Kairi chuckled. "If that's really what you want, then I have an idea."

He extended his hand once more. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mordred."

She looked at his hand again, and then smirked. "Likewise, Master! Don't let me down!"

Instead of a shake, she slapped it.

Ignore the stinging pain, ignore the stinging pain….

As feeling slowly returned to his now abused hand, Mordred slammed her fist into her open palm, and a feral smile crept across her lips. "Alright then, Master. Just point me in the direction of our enemies, and we'll win this War in no time. Where are they?"

"Whoa, just hold your horses. I like your enthusiasm, but, first, we have to go to church."

"Church?"

* * *

 _The Next Day_

With some minor commands, Caules had the last of the defunct golems set up and ready. round him, he could hear the faint cello-sound of crooning grasshoppers. "There, that should do it."

He then turned back towards the castle. "Okay Berser-er, _mama!_ Give it your best shot! Unleash your noble phantasm!"

From atop the hill, the tall woman nodded. "Of course, dear!"

Caules did not think he could begin to describe what came next.

There had been the drawing back of an arrow on a bowstring; shining edges of two swords and a polearm; thunder around a weird axe; and then, purple lightning so bright, he had to cover his eyes.

When he had dared to open them, the golems were gone.

No, not gone, _vaporized_.

The ground around where they had been positioned was all charred and torn to shreds.

Wow, what a Noble Phantasm.

Berserker sheathed her sword and looked towards him with a big smile and a wave. "All done, sweetheart!"

Caules half-heartedly returned the wave and gave a half-smile.

It was kind of weird how her madness enhancement had manifested as an overabundance of love, as well as a desire to 'mother' everyone around her.

Having grown up without much in the way of parental affection, it was a bit of a weird experience for the teenage magus.

There was a problem, though- "Come here, Caules! Let mama shower you with _all_ her affection!"

With a slight yelp, Caules began to run from her outstretched arms.

The only problem was that, well, Berserker tended to blur the lines between different kinds of love.

As he ran, and she chased, a part of Caules thought that, in a weird sort of way, it wasn't that bad, being loved.

"You shouldn't be running so much! You need to take a nap, young man!"

Then again, since she always wanted to stay close to him, Caules envisioned plenty of restless nights ahead!

* * *

In hindsight, Fiore should have gotten a bigger table, but, in her defense, she had not expected even the mighty Heracles to be so big, which meant that no chair in the palace could hold his weight, thus necessitating that he sat cross-legged on the floor.

The teacup looked ridiculously tiny, delicately held between his finger and fore thumb. She was just amazed that it did not shatter.

It was also a wonder that he did not accidentally inhale the cup as he sipped from it. "This beverage is most delicious Master. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, Archer. However, I don't feel all that comfortable being called master. Let's start over. My name is Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia. But, please, you can call me Fiore."

"Very well."

"What is your wish, if I may inquire, master?"

Fiore was hesitant to answer, suddenly feeling foolish about how selfish her wish would seem to such a great hero.

"Fiore?"

"… I was born with an unprecedented amount of magic circuits in my body, and all of the highest possible quality. Unfortunately, all of these high-quality circuits are situated in my legs, and thus interfere with my nerves. Thus, I am faced with two choices…. If I wish to walk, then my circuit will have to be removed. But, if I wish to be a mage, then I will be forever bound to this chair."

"Unless you win the Holy Grail and make a wish."

"Correct. All things considered, it's a rather selfish desire. Please… don't think less of me for it."

He looked at her for a moment, and then chuckled, the noise like the rumble of a small earthquake. "Lady Fiore, in all my years of life, I have seen all manner of selfish desires and things. As such, I can honestly say that your desire is one of the least selfish things that I have ever heard. So please, be not embarrassed by the scope of your wish, however large or small it may be. Be upright and hold your head high as you enter this war, and hold close your selfish desire."

Fiore did not know how to react to that, even as she blushed most deeply at what he said. Who would have expected Heracles to be so eloquent and charming? "Thank you," she said. "If I may, what is your wish, Heracles?"

His large face briefly contorted in thought, and then, he shrugged his massive shoulders. "A chance to continue my adventures, and to be a hero."

"Really?"

"Indeed. Despite the twelve labors being acts of penance for the murders of my family, I must confess that I grew to enjoy traveling about the land, as well as my time on the Argo with Jason. When I died from a poisoned shirt, one of my regrets was that I would not get the chance to explore the rest of the world, or to balance the scales of all the wrongs I had committed in the past. I simply want to explore, to see awesome and interesting new sights, and to once again be a hero, if only to continue atoning for my many sins."

Though his face briefly grew melancholy, the Greatest Hero of Greece then bellowed out a deep and mighty laugh. "So, you see? In the grand scheme of things, my wish too is rather shallow and selfish!"

Firoe could not help but join in his laughter. It was a very infectious thing. She then raised her cup. "To Selfish wishes, then?"

The giant raised his own. "To Selfish desires."

 _Clink._

Then, his face grew serious. "One question, though…"

"Yes?"

"In this unusual Holy Grail War, there are two teams, ours, and the Red Faction. As such, we will be fighting them to the death for a chance at the Holy Grail."

"I am aware, yes."

"Then you are also aware that whoever is left will then have to engage in a secondary Grail War. If it came down to it, are you prepared to face off against your own brother, Lord Caules?"

…. She had not been expecting that line of questioning at all.

"…Yes, I think so. Despite my infirmity, I am still the superior magus. I would triumph easily."

"… I understand. Thank you for your answer, Lady Fiore."

After that, they drank the rest of their tea in silence.

It was good tea.

* * *

Ophelia loved to rest in the open courtyard. It was her favorite thing to do when there was nothing else to do.

Just sit and relax and listen to the-

 _Thunk! Thunk!_

-grasshoppers.

Throughout the courtyard, the sound of axes thudding into several set-up targets echoed through the courtyard.

With a sigh, Ophelia opened her eye to the sight of Rider, dressed in casual clothes that left a great majority of his tattooed body on display, as he almost absently threw several of his axes into a number of wooden targets.

He was also drinking from a very large stein of beer.

After his ninth bull's eye, Rider sighed. "I'm bored, Master."

"I am aware."

He then turned to look at her. "You know, I thought that the whole point of a Holy Grail War, especially the 'War' part, was to do battle with mighty enemies, be washed in their blood, and then claim hard-won victory whilst standing on and over their corpses."

"That is true."

"So, that being the case, then why are we just waiting around!? We should be out there, hunting down our enemies, and devouring their flesh and bones!"

Ophelia sighed again. "Firstly, because such an action is extremely rash. Second, because Uncle Darnic has ordered us to let the Red Faction make the first move. Let them come to us. Finally…. It's Sunday."

"So?"

"Sunday is the one day where I am free. Every other day, I always have something to do. As such, I treasure Sundays, greatly. Uncle Darnic's people have Saturday as their traditional day of rest. Mine is Sunday. Rest assured that you will have your battles soon enough, Rider. Just be patient, please. End of discussion."

Seeing that he was not going to win this argument, Rider growled, drank a large portion of his beer, and then stalked over to retrieve his axes.

He was awfully similar to her cousin, Bazett. It was uncanny enough to be almost amusing.

For now, though, there was just sun, and relaxation….

* * *

If there was two words that could be used to describe and define Jinako Carigri Yggdmillennia, then those words would be "lazy shut-in."

And you know what, she was perfectly happy with that! It was who she was, and she had no intention of changing anytime soon.

Besides, Jin, as she preferred to be called, knew where her strengths lay and that was with helping Grandpa Darnic with all things that were internet related. So, in return, he did not make much of an issue about her lack of wanting to do much outside of her room.

It now helped that her new Servant was pretty much the same.

She was dressed like Japanese noble woman, and had extremely pale skin, a thin figure, and long brown hair that reached past her ankles.

She was currently wrapped up in several comfy blankets, and watching television.

Like Jin, Osakabehime preferred to do as little as possible, and enjoyed lazing about whenever possible.

At the moment, Jin was monitoring satellite feeds for any hint of activity that could pertain to the Red Faction. So far, though, there was nothing. With a slight shrug, she stuffed a handful of potato crisps into her mouth.

Assassin flipped the tv channel. It was to an American talk show, where a famous American Comedian was being interviewed. Luckily, Jin and her servant could understand what was being said.

 _"It's still hard to believe that you've been at the top of your game for over fifty years, Ms. Maisel…"_

* * *

The Saber knelt by a pond near the forest.

He studied the face that looked back at him from the reflection, for he had taken off his helmet, where there were no witnesses.

With a thin grin, he raised a gauntleted hand, placed the sharp finger tips against opposite side of the head, starting at the ear, and began to slowly tear, dragging thin red lines across the face, tearing as he dragged.

He never stopped grinning, even as the face was soon covered in blood.

To a Servant, the wounds were nothing, and would dissipate in a matter of seconds, but, for the moment, the Saber relished the act of vengeance.

* * *

Darnic entered his private study. It was one of the few places in the castle where he could feel at peace, somewhat. Within it were various mementoes of the past century, a good few of which were from the Fuyuki Grail War.

One of them, the shattered half of that Mask which that troublesome Rider had worn, stared back at him from behind a glass case. He had been a most tenacious adversary.

This was Darnic's room, and, upon Lancer's summoning, he had given it to the Founder of Rome as a gesture of fealty.

"I do hope that our faction's new members are to your satisfaction, your Majesty."

"Indeed. When Rome forged our kingdom, even with our might, it still took a great many years to conquer and unite and make that which would become the greatest Empire in all of history. But, had these heroes been there with us, by our side, then the whole globe would have been in our hands within a year!"

The Founder of Rome was actually trembling with excitement, and the room seemed brighter in reflection of his mood. "And what legends these are! The Greatest Hero of Greece, whose tales and exploits are renown throughout the entirety of the globe, as well as one who is of Rome's own family, Heracles;the rapacious Wolf that survived the end of the gods, and stole the body of Ireland's Greatest Hero, Vánagandr; the Leader of the four Guardian Kings, and the Slayer of the Demons of Mt. Ooe, Minamoto-no-Raikou; The Legendary Alchemist, Paracelcus; the great philosopher and Golem Maker, Avicebron; and, of course, our Assassin, the Lady of Himeji Castle, the reclusive Osakabehime herself!"

"And what of Saber?"

"If he is who you suspect, friend Darnic, then the new forces of Rome are indeed beyond all compare!"

He turned back to the window. "With them by our side, then victory is already all but assured, Darnic! Glory and expansion will be ours in this new world!"

At that moment, despite himself, Darnic could not help but indulge in his Servant's good cheer and optimism.

* * *

It was a bit of a long drive to the meeting place, as detailed by Old Man Belfaban, Kairi mused. Though, after the bit of excitement from last night, he decided to enjoy this bit of monotony. It was a bit of a long drive to the meeting place, as detailed by Old Man Belfaban, Kairi mused. Though, after the bit of excitement from last night, he decided to enjoy this bit of monotony. It was probably going to be a while before he had such a boring moment again.

Though, it was not much a silent ride. His new companion, and passenger, was like an excitable, somewhat petulant child, in that she kept pestering him every now and then during the drive.

"Are we there yet, Master?"

"Almost, just be a bit more patient."

"You said that like, hours ago."

"It was only half an hour ago, at most. Like I said, just be patient."

"Fine, but only if we get something to eat afterwards, Master."

"Sure, sure."

After the summoning last night, Kairi and his new Saber Servant had retired to his hotel room, since, at the moment, he was unwilling to draw too much attention to himself from any soldiers.

Now, after watching her down a rather large breakfast, they were on their way to meet Kairi's appointed contact, another master of the Red Faction.

A while later, they had arrived at the meeting spot, The _Biserica din Deal_ , the Church on the Hill, one of the famed sights located within the city of Sighisoara.

The church was stately, yet not too ostentatious, and it was filled with the strange sort of ambiance that seemed to fill all churches, no matter their grandeur or size.

He had heard that The King of Romania frowned on Catholicism. Guess, his people just followed suit.

The interior was spacious, with the eye of course being drawn to the modest altar and the lovely pane glass window in its center. It looked both well-kept, and yet used very little.

"It is quite a beautiful interior, is it not?" came a slightly raspy voice, that, nonetheless, still sounded as smooth as a flat piece of marble, and too charming to be anything else but disingenuous.

Kairi turned and came face to face with the man that he had been instructed by Old Man Belfaban to meet.

The man was somewhat tall, lean, and dressed in immaculate clothes of snow white, night black, and blood red, with a crimson long coat with silver trim hanging about his shoulders. His wild and spiky hair was the color of snow, and his skin was like that of melted caramel. Oddly enough, the entire right side of his face was completely covered by a form-fitting mask, eye, and all. His visible eye was amber in color, and the visible side of his mouth seemed tilted into a small and disingenuous smile. It all worked together to evoke the image of a proud and somber magus.

It also all reminded Kairi a bit of his old man.

He must have felt Kairi's stare, and the man raised his gloved right hand behind his head in slight embarrassment. "My apologies for the mask," the young man rasped. "I was in a… terrible accident some years back. It left extensive injuries upon the entire right side of my person. The resulting scars, they are… not pleasant to look upon."

Wow. Way to get off to a good start, Kairi. "Sorry to hear it, and my apologies if I was staring."

The masked man waved off the condolences, and then held up his gloved right hand, through which shined three bright symbols. "It's fine. I've grown used to it. Shall we get down to business, then?"

"Don't see why not."

"Excellent. Now then, my name is Shirou Kotomine von Einzbern. Like you, I am a master of the Red Faction."

"An Einzbern, huh? I thought that the three families weren't allowed to get involved in any more Grail Wars after that debacle in Germany."

"Officially, no, but, as I am only, at most, an adopted member of the Einzberns, then it has allowed for my family to… _circumvent_ the noninvolvement pact, as it were."

Before they could continue speaking, Saber suddenly flashed into being, fully armored, in front of Kairi with an outstretched arm.

"Saber? What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Master. Something's not right."

Kotomine kept smiling through his half mask. "It is fine. I suppose it's only fair that I reveal to you my servant as well. As I just stated, I too am a master of the Red Faction."

Then, next to him materialized his servant.

The man was tall, and regal, with skin the color of shining emeralds. His hair and mustache were as black as night, while his clothing was all of the finest make, as was the solid gold crown that laid upon his head, and the staff of precious metals that rested in his hand.

He looked upon Kairi and Mordred and gave a slight bow. "I bid you greetings, my fellow Servant of Red. I am Caster, and my true name is Mayasura, the greatest architect of India, and king of the asuras, daityas, and raksasa races."

Kairi had to hold back an appreciative whistle as Caster's stats were arrayed before him. Then again, he had heard that when India had tried to create a Holy Grail War, the power of the summoned Servants had almost leveled the city where it had been held to dust, thus ending within a single day.

The Caster then looked Saber over and sighed. "I see that the tales of the Saber class being full of noble and even tempered knights. You, on the other hand, seem little more than an uncouth and hot-tempered barbarian. Are you sure that you are not simply a delusional Berserker"

In response, the helmed knight growled at him and began to call forth her red sword to her hand, only for Kairi to stop with a gesture.

Ignoring the fact that violence had almost erupted, the masked magus gestured to one of the pews. "Come, Mr. Sisigou. Sit. I believe that we have much to discuss."

With some reluctance, the necromancer did, with Mordred remaining by his side. The masked magus then took a seat to the mercenary's left, while the regal Caster remained standing, and glared at Mordred.

The masked man then spoke. "From the intelligence that we managed to gather, the Black Faction has already summoned their servants, and are assembled within Millennia Castle."

"Any idea as to their identities?"

"A few theories, though nothing too concrete as of yet. We had originally thought that Darnic Yggdmillennia had summoned Vlad Tepes III as his Lancer, seeing as how, were he to be summoned here, the Impaler would be a very mighty servant. However, it seems that in this instance, we were wrong. Darnic's Lancer is not Vlad III and is extremely powerful. From the report of the surviving member of the slaughtered enforcer task force, all we know for certain is that the Lancer of Black is a Roman Servant."

"And what about our servants? How are they?"

The masked man smiled again. "Well, in terms of quality, they all seem to be fairly outstanding, and I can honestly say that we have more than a fighting chance, even against the Black Faction's mysterious Lancer."

Shioru then rubbed his chin in thought. "Most oddly, the summoning of two Ruler Servants have been detected."

"Ruler?" Old Man Belfaban had not mentioned any Ruler Class.

"Yes, the eighth class, and the fifteenth servant in this variation of the Holy Grail War. The Ruler is responsible for overseeing the Grail War, making sure that everything is kept along a certain course, if you will, as well as making sure that none of the contestants get too out of hand. Of course, the fact that two have been summoned to this War is… odd to say the least."

Kairi processed the information for a moment, and then shrugged. He was just here to compete and win, after all.

The magus smiled again and rose from the pew. "Now then, why don't we join up with the other masters?"

Kairi shook his head. "Nah. I don't need to meet the others."

"You don't?"

"We're just going to handle things on our own. Since Berserker has more than enough power to battle solo, I'm sure that we'll be fine."

The masked man's smile did not grow or lessen, though it did adopt a confused bent to it. "Do you not work well in groups, Mr. Sisigou?"

Kairi was quiet for a moment, as memories of being shot at by a sorrowful man he had been foolish enough to trust briefly filled his mind. "Yeah. I guess you can say that."

The Necromancer than stood up, and slowly began to walk towards the door. "Well, thanks for the info, but we should get going. Come on, Berserker."

The Caster then spoke. "The enemy has already completely established itself as an army, Necromancer. Moving of your own accord will all but guarantee that we will suffer more than a few inconveniences down the road, and yet you still intend to leave?

"That's right. Guess we're not exactly what once could call "team players." My apologies. But, if it makes you feel any better, we'll keep in touch if needed. See ya around."

With a lazy wave, Kairi exited the church, with Mordred following in spirit form, while the heavy doors closed behind them.

* * *

As Kairi walked along the paved path, he lifted his head. "Are they following us?"

"No," Mordred replied. "They're not. Even an assassin has to materialize before launching an attack. I would not miss something like that."

"Thanks. Good to know."

"Master, if I may, why did you not wish to team up with them? There is sometimes safety in numbers."

"Simple. You didn't want to, right?"

"Yeah…it's just a hunch, but, that Red Master…. He reminded me of both my mother, and of that pervert, Merlin. I don't feel like he can be trusted. Besides, that Caster was too pompous for his own good. In other words, they're the type of person who should never be trusted, especially in a War."

As they spoke, the Necromancer began to descend a flight of outdoor stairs leading towards the main town. He then flinched for a second s a grasshopper flew by his head.

Kairi smirked. "Then I made the right decision. I have faith in your instincts."

"I appreciate it. I am quite relieved that my master is smart enough to not be misled by deceitful people. Though, only a little bit, mind you."

"Well, thanks, Mordred."

They exited into the main town and headed towards where Kairi had parked the car. "Alright," the Necromancer said. "It's time to head to Trifas."

"Oh, before that, I have a favor to ask of you."

"A favor?"

* * *

As the Necromancer and Saber left, Shirou let out a chuckle. "It seems that they don't trust us."

Caster sighed in response. "Surely, it was in no way my fault. One can never rely on barbarians"

"No. Though, it was a shame that we could not learn Saber's true name either. It may have been protected by a Noble Phantasm of some sort."

"So, now what? I personally believe it is for the best that they are not cooperating too closely with us, Master. One mad beast is already enough of a handful to have to deal with, let alone two. In fact, it may be more prudent to have them disposed of."

"Perhaps. But those two also desire to reach the Holy Grail, which means they are our allies, at least for the moment. However, they will be watched."

"Very well. Now, then, I must hurry and complete the cities."

"Indeed. I've heard that the ritual will be completed within the next few days."

"Correct. For now…"

Suddenly the doors swung open. A moment later, the _tap-tap-tapping_ of a wooden cane once more filled the room.

To all appearances, the owner of the knotted cane seemed like a simple old woman, slightly hunched, and dressed in simple peasant clothing. On her back, though, was a large wicker basket full of strange things.

However, her eyes were clear and shaper that a razor's edge, and her smile was conniving and sly and cruel.

"My, my my. What are you naughty little children up to?" she asked, in a heavily accented voice

"Hello, Caster. Is something the matter?" Shirou asked, while Caster looked upon the old Crone with disdain."

"Not much, dearie, except to inform you of the fact that Berserker has broken loose and is now heading with all speed towards that Black Faction's fortress, as if Old Scratch himself were on it heels."

"What!?" Mayasura exclaimed. "How did that happen?"

The old woman looked at him as if the ancient king was a moron. "Did you not hear me when I said that he. Broke. Loose? Your hearing must be starting to fail you, architect."

The room was suddenly filled with a palpable feeling of Caster's ire, only for the second Caster to shake her finger at him in response as if he were a naughty child. "Now, now, dearie. None of that!"

A moment later, another power filled the room, hers, but whereas Caster's was proud and radiant, hers was disdainful and icy.

With a chuckle, Shirou raised his hands. "Let's try to remain civil, shall we?"

After a tense moment, the two towering auras dispersed.

Shirou was pleased that blows had not been exchanged. His face then grew serious, and he turned to the old crone. "Do you have any idea how the Berserker got loose?"

The old woman smirked at him. "Well, surely, you don't suspect poor little Baba Yaga, do you? Nevertheless, I have already dispatched one of the two Riders, Saber, and two of the Archers to tail the mad beast…."

* * *

The forest was serene, peaceful, and lovely.

The birds twittered, the little woodland creatures tittered and ran about.

It was just…. Nice.

Then, all of a sudden, the very atmosphere grew somber and fearful. All the creatures, even the insects, grew silent.

A moment later, the cause of the fear was soon revealed, as it exploded into the woods.

It looked like a strange and shapeless mass hidden behind a dark cloud. All that could really be seen of it was its glowing red eyes.

Without stopping, and with a strangled roar in its throat, it sped along, towards the overhanging castle in the far-off distance.

High up in the trees, three figures chased after the creature….

* * *

 _Trifas, Night_

The sun had set, and night had now spread its velvety wings upon the city of Trifas. Oddly though, the streets seemed near deserted, despite the fact that many lights were lit from each building. As such, To Kairi, it felt as if he and Mordred were the only residents of the town. Out of the corner of his sunglasses, he studied his servant's new appearance.

Her favor had been that he bought her some clothes to wear, as she actually hated going around in astral form.

So, after the shopping trip, and a large dinner, as he had promised earlier, Mordred was now garbed in a grey t-shirt, a red jacket, knee-length jean shorts, and black boots adorned with a skull design.

Her original choice had been a small tube top and a pair of daisy duke shorts that had been little more than a belt, to which Kairi had put his foot down in refusal. While he was not a prude, he also had not wanted to have to deal with the headache and trouble of a burly biker figure being seen by police with a scantily dressed girl who looked barely out of her teens calling him "Master."

Luckily, she had accepted his suggestions about her attire with little fuss. Indeed, she had actually quite taken to her new attire. "Wow. These clothes feel amazing! Thank you master!"

"Don't worry about it. It was a necessary expense."

In the near distance, Millennia Castle loomed ominously. Unbeknownst to the two, flying overhead was a strange, rocky thing shaped like an owl, a single eye dominating its entire head.

Mordred looked about as she spun around, getting a feeling for her new garb. "It's strange. Here we are, as bold as brass, walking through the heart of the enemy's territory, and yet nobody has attacked us yet."

"Rest assured, this town is definitely under the control of the Yggdmillennia."

"Which means?"

Suddenly, the pair stopped walking. Standing in front of them was a large group of Yggdmillennia homunculi, each armed with, and armored in, high-quality-looking weapons and guns and armor. Alongside these blank faced warriors were large golems made of steel and stone, each which looked like they could crush Kairi's skull with little to no effort.

As Kairi un-holstered his sawed-off shotgun from under his jacket, Mordred laughed and suddenly began lightly slapping him on the back, as if it were all a funny joke. "Hahahaha! Oh, I get it now! I thought that it was just going to be me, but you were being a decoy as well! You might just be insane! I like it!"

Atop the rooftop, homunculi snipers took up positions with bows and arrows and rifles.

Despite the fact that they were being surrounded, Kairi remained oddly unperturbed about their situation, at least on the surface, while, internally, he was understandably more than a bit wary about their situation. "You take care of the golems. I'll focus on getting rid of the homunculi."

"Got it! Be sure not to die!"

"Right. Show the extent of your powers, Saber!" As he exclaimed this, Kairi rushed forward towards their attackers, shotgun at the ready.

* * *

As his master ran off, Saber turned and looked at the approaching golems with boredom, not even moving as one slammed down its massive club upon his head. At least this should be fun.

Suddenly, it stopped. Mordred had managed to black it with one armored hand. As golem and Servant struggled against each other, Berserker smirked. "You got it, Master! Just leave this to me!"

In the next instant, he sent the golem crashing into the building on his right with a large explosion of stone and debris.

As another bulky thing rushed towards him, the Servant of the Sword dodged it's club by dashing backwards in a flash of red light, causing his armor to appear from the waist down, and then sped forwards and ran up and off of the lumbering behemoth, twisted in the air, and then impacted against one of the myriads of buildings lining the street. Then, with a smirk, Mordred pushed off, the force comparable to a cruise missile as he shot straight through the golem, demolishing it, but with him being no worse for wear.

No sooner had he landed on his feet than another golem was already lumbering towards him. With another flash of red, Saber was now fully incased in his armor from the neck down, leaving only his face bare. Almost nonchalantly, he ducked under the first blow, and then, in a blur of red and steel, sliced off the golem's arm with a newly materialized Clarent.

Taking the stolen and tarnished sword of kingship in both hands, Mordred sped and slashed across the air, demolishing the golems in a way that would seem to an outside viewer a strange and bizarre mixture between brute force and above average swordsmanship.

As more of the stony brutes came rumbling towards him, the Killer of Kings looked up and smirked as his horned helmet fully envelopes his head in a rattle of shifting metal. Then, with blade at the ready, and a wild battle cry echoing from his lips, he dashed forwards.

* * *

It was through a combination of instinct, speed, and pure dumb luck that Kairi had not been sliced to ribbons yet by the homunculi, and thus had to be continuously moving backwards, without firing off a shot as of yet. To be fair, it was not like he had any experience fighting against people who used freaking halberds before!

The guns also did not help!

With adrenaline pumping speed through his legs, Kairi turned and ran, scrambling and sliding across and behind a dumpster bin to avoid the three halberd-wielding homunculi who were hot on his heels, as well as the small barrage of bullets.

As they attempted to flank him, Kairi spun on his heel, aimed, and let loose his own gun's payload; bullets crafted from the finger bones of dead magi. Before they knew what had hit them, two of the homunculi were already dead, with their blood staining the wall behind them as they collapsed to the ground. The third one, though his neck was already leaking blood, somehow managed to remain upright. As he did, he gasped out, "Is… this… Gandr?"

It was, again, more though luck than anything the Kairi managed to notice, out of the corner of his eye, the arrows and bullets arcing towards him, and was barely able to scurry behind the dumpster bin for cover. As the sniping homunculi continued to rain down arrows and bullets upon him, he reached into his jacket, and pulled out a curious object. It was what looked like a beating heart with a grenade pin mechanism attached to it.

Flicking off the pin, Kairi threw it up towards the archers and gunmen. Although they managed to quickly perforate the thing with arrows and bullets, they had unknowingly fallen right into a trap. As the grenade exploded, a dark purple mist shot out of the heart's tubes and settled upon the archers. A second later, the one caught in the blast radius began to choke and spit up blood as the poison swiftly entered their bodies, killing them though immediate multiple organ failure, while their faces contorted into expressions of agony as they died.

Meanwhile, Mordred was swiftly finishing up the remainder of the golems. As another fell to her impaling blade, one with a large crossbow attached to its right arm took aim from the roof.

Thank to her instinct skill, and without looking, Mordred sent her sword spinning over her shoulder and through the air like a boomerang towards the archer, smashing it into pieces.

Despite now not having her weapon on hand, Mordred then finished off the last attacking golem with a swift and powerful punch to its center, reducing it to stony fragments and debris.

With that, the battle had ended.

As she nonchalantly caught her falling sword, Kairi approached his servant, holstering his weapon as he did so. "Looks like we're done here," he said.

"I'm surprised by your skill, master," Mordred said, as her helmet collapsed into her armor.

"Heh. I've been in more than a fair share of scraps." He then looked around at the now quiet battlefield. "Odd. Why did they go all out like that?"

"All out? This was nothing. They didn't even send one of their servants. Cowards."

"Well, let's retreat for tonight." As he spoke, the Necromancer bent down to retrieve one of the large purple gems that had acted as a golem's magical core. "At least it wasn't a complete waste though."

As he pocketed the gem, Mordred lightly slapped him on the back, like they were old chums celebrating the victory of their favorite sports team.

Ignore the excruciating pain, ignore the pain, ignore the pain...

"Well, with that out of the way… Tell me, what did you think of my skills as a warrior?"

Kairi smiled through the pain in his back as he looked at her. "I have to admit, you're quite good. Truly, I've ended up with a very magnificent Servant here."

"Heh. Damn right you did. I am the only one who managed to kill my father, after all."

"Yeah, though, if I were to critique you…"

"Critique? What for? I was fucking flawless!"

"Perhaps, but that last part, with you throwing your sword? That may have been a bit much."

"A bit much? Idiot! Don't you know that as long as you win in the end, no one really cares how you do it?"

"Hmm. I think I can agree with that."

* * *

Thanks to the flying familiar, the entirety of the Black faction within the castle had bore witness to the battle, and, more importantly, to the prowess and abilities of Saber and her master.

Darnic was the first to speak. "Hmmm. Strong indeed."

"Even discounting the fact that it was done by a Saber," Archer said, praise clear in his tone, "That was rather exceptional."

"Yeah," added Rider. "That crazy chick's no pushover, that's for sure." He then licked his lips. "I wonder what her soul will taste like."

Lancer leaned upon one of the arms of his throne, stroking his chin in thought. He then looked down towards Saber. "Can you win?" The Emperor of Rome asked of the Servant of the Sword.

The servant's eyes had remained silently glued to the image in front of them, having not uttered one single word. The only real movement had been a slight twitch of his hand.

Then, suddenly, he began to chuckle. That chuckle turned into a giggle, and then into full-blown, neigh on maniacal laughter. For almost two whole minutes, he laughed and laughed, even placing a gauntleted hand over his visored eyes.

As his laughter subsided, he then turned towards Lancer and Darnic, a manic and joyous grin on his face, which due to his helmet still being in place, was felt rather than seen. "I can say with full and certain confidence that I can defeat that treacherous spawn, Lancer. I can also tell you her weakness, her strengths, and, quite happily, who she is."

"Oh? Please, do tell."

* * *

 _Biserica din Deal_

Shirou looked at the altar. Once, he would have been found kneeling at it, praying. He would have prayed for many things, among which would have included success in his future endeavors, clarity of mind, as well as just simple guidance.

He would have done all of that, once, but now? Now he no longer prayed.

As he contemplated, he blinked, and then smiled, since he felt that he was no longer alone.

In a flash of golden sparks, the Servant of the Bow came into being behind the Master of Red. Tall and proud, with skin and hair the color of freshly fallen snow, the Servant was clad in a flowing achkan of gold, red, and black. Golden armor, which seemed to hold the radiance of the sun, covered him from head to toe on top of, and even beneath, the achkan, almost as if it were growing from his skin. A large, ornate earing hung from his left ear.

At his side were two quivers full of arrows, and a small dagger, whilst in his hand he held a great bow of unparalleled beauty and strength that simply radiated power. Floating by his shoulders were two large, golden shapes, like two eyes. Finishing the effect was his cape, which flowed like a living flame the color of blood.

Every iota of this being radiated pure power, as if it were a simple, undeniable truth. Indeed, he seemed like a miniature sun unto himself, filling the darkened church with bright, indeed almost blinding, light.

Two eyes, one red and one blue, and both vertical, like a mighty dragon, stared at Shirou, who seemed unfazed by the Archer's overwhelming presence.

"Hello Archer. How can I help you this fine evening?"

"I have been told by my master that you are in charge of support, so I thought it best to see you for myself."

"Yes, I am. Do you have any concerns with that arrangment, Archer?"

"No."

"Good. Be ready to move out. Caster has informed me the cities are nearing completion."

"Understood," The Son of the Sun god replied.

"Oh, and Karna?"

"Yes?"

The smile never left Shirou's face. "When the Ruler class servants appear in Romania, you and Lancer are to track them down and eliminate them."

"Understood."

* * *

The truck hummed along down the road.

In the back of the truck, the blonde girl looked upon her companion and fellow traveler.

He was very handsome, in an honest sort of way, and his hair was a long waterfall of chocolate. He was lithe, and yet muscular, as if he had spent a great deal of his life either in war, or working the fields of his farm, which he had, both in host form, and in his past life, like her.

His face seemed to always hold a kind and caring and understanding expression.

He was Saint George, the Dragon-slayer of Legend, and the knight also known as Red Cross, while she was Jeanne d'Arc, the Maid of Orleans.

Like her, he was the Ruler-class Servant of this Great and Impossible Holy Grail War.

Also, like her, he had been summoned in a most unusual fashion; into a host body that was compatible in body and soul; her a pious boarding school student, and he an equally pious and charitable charity worker.

Suddenly, Jeanne's head shot up, as did Georgios'.

"You too?"

"Yes, I can feel them coming."

After getting the driver who had agreed to drive them to the border of Romania to drop them off in the middle of the road, under a highway billboard the two shifted into the battle attire, with the only illumination being the stars, and a solitary highway sign

Both were garbed in great and shining armor, both held in their hands mighty banners attached to spears, and both had swords belted at their waists.

"Come out," cried the Maid of Orleans. "We know you are there."

A moment later, their pursuer's appeared, one expertly balanced atop the highway, in shining golden armor, and an arrow nocked to his bow.

The figure on the ground was of average height, and yet, was so androgynous that neither Saint could tell if it was a male or female. It was dressed in a loose white-and-gold robe and pants that left its feet bare, though it seemed to suffer no discomfort from standing upon the road. Its eyes glowed a soft gold, and it green hair was so long that it reached almost to its ankles.

A long black cord hung about its shoulders, and a disconcerting smile rested on its face.

Right away, Jeanne and Georgios knew the identities of the pair.

Archer and Lancer of Red.

Karna and Enkidu.

"You are the Ruler-class Servants, correct?" asked the Son of Surya, as he looked upon them with his red and white eyes.

The androgynous Chain of Heaven then spoke, in a voice that, like its appearance, was neither male or female, and yet both. "Please prepare to die."

Everything exploded.

* * *

 **A/N: Two Rulers, and other things! The Son of Surya in his most Powerful class, and the Chain of Heaven, who is just plain powerful! What will happen next?**

 **Rest assured, there will only be two factions in this story. There will be no third faction, but, that does not mean there will be all the same characters, or that the same characters will be the same.**

 **Also, if you get that little tidbit about the female comedian, then good for you!**

 **Read, review, and enjoy.**

* * *

Ruler 1: Jeanne d'Arc

 **STATS**

STR: B

END: B

AGI: A

MAN: A

LCK: C

NP: A++

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: EX

True Name Discernment: B

God's Resolution: A

Mana Burst (Light): A

 **Personal Skills**

Revelation: A

Charisma: C+

Saint: B

Riding: C

Soul of a Martyr: C+

 **Noble Phantasms**

Luminosite Eternelle: A++

La Pucelle: EX

* * *

2nd Ruler: Saint George

 **STATS**

STR: C

END: EX

AGI: B

MAN: A  
LCK: A+

NP: EX

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: EX

True Name Discernment: B

God's Resolution: A

Mana Burst (Light): A

 **Personal Skills**

Guardian Knight: A+

Martyr's Soul: EX

Selfless Saint: EX

Battle Continuation: A

Instinct: C

Divinity: C

 **Noble Phantasms**

Ascalon: B

Red Cross: A+

Puer Dilectus Deo: EX

* * *

 **Black Faction**

Saber of Black: ? 

Master: Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia

STATS

STR: A

END: A+  
AGI: A

MAN: A++

LCK: B

N.P.: EX

 **Class Skills**

Riding: A

Magic Resistance: A

Avenger: A

 **Personal Skills**

Charisma: A

Mana Burst: A

Instinct: B

The Red and White Dragon: EX

?: EX

 **Noble Phantasms**

?: B

The Thirteen Treasures of Britain: E-EX

?: EX

* * *

Archer of Black: Heracles

Master: Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia

 **STATS**

STR: A+

END: A  
AGI: A+  
MAN: A  
LCK: A  
NP: A

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: A

Independent Action: A++

 **Personal Skills**

Divinity: A

Eye of the Mind (false): A

Bravery: A+

Battle Continuation: A+

 **Noble Phantasms**

God Hand: B

Pelt of the Divine Beast: A

Nine Lives (Shooting the Hundred Heads): C-A

Goddess of War: A

Bow of the Hydra: A

* * *

Rider of Black: Vánagandr

Master: Ophelia Phamrsolone Fraga Icecolle Yggdmillennia

 **STATS**

STR: A+

END: B+

AGI: A+

MAN: A+

LCK: C+

NP: EX

 **Class Skills**

Riding: EX

Magic Resistance: B

Twilight Survivor: -

 **Personal Skills**

Body and blessings of the Hound: A+. (Combines Runic magic, protection from arrows, Battle continuation, independent action, disengage, Divinity, and Natural Body)

Authority (Ice): A

Soul Eater: A

Breath of the ice wolf: B++

Beast of Einherjar: B++

 **Noble phantasms**

Sol and Mani: Wolf-borne chariot of the sky: A+. The Chariot of Sol and Mani, pilfered by Vánagandr, and pulled by his children Skoll and Hati.

Gae-Bolg: B.

? : EX

* * *

Berserker of Black: Minamoto-no-Raikou

Master: Caules Fovedge Yggmillennia

 **STATS**

STR: A

END: B  
AGI: D  
MAN: A  
LCK: C  
N.P.: A+

 **Class Skills**

Mad Enhancement: EX

Riding: A+

Divinity: C

Magic Resistance: D

 **Personal Skills**

Eternal Arms Mastership: A+

Mana Burst (Lightning): A

Mystery Slayer: A

 **Noble Phantasm**

Ox-King Storm Call – The Inescapable Net of Heaven: A+

* * *

Assassin of Black: Osakabehime 

Master: Jinako Carigiri Yggmilennia

 **STATS**

STR: E

END: E

AGI: E

MAN: A+

LCK: A+

N.P.: A++

 **Class Skills**

Presence Concealment (Shade): B

Territory Creation: A+

Divinity: C

 **Personal Skills**

Shapeshift: A+

Chiyogami Manipulation Techniques: EX

Castle Monster: A++

 **Noble Phantasm**

Lord Hachitendo of the White Egret Castle's Hundred Demons: A++

* * *

 **Red Faction (So Far)**

Lancer of Red: Enkidu

 **STATS**

STR: A  
END: A  
AGI: A  
MAN: A  
LCK: A

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: A

 **Personal Skills**

Transfiguration: A

Presence Detection: A++

Consummated Shape: A

 **Noble Phantasms**

Enuma Elish: A++

Age of Babylon: ?

* * *

Archer of Red 1: Karna 

**STATS**

STR B

END A+

AGI A

MAN A

LCK A++

 **Class Skills**

Magic Resistance: C

Independent Action: A+

Divinity: A

 **Personal Skills**

Mana Burst (Flames and Lightning): A+

Riding: A

Uncrowned Armed Mastery: -

Clairvoyance: A

Discernment of the Poor: A

 **Noble Phantasms**

Sun Dagger (Anti-defense) B+: The Dagger that Karna used to cut away his armor thus is now an anti-defense phantasm.

Vjiya, Bow of Assured Victory A+++ Grants its wielder a rank up in luck, and something akin to instinct. When it's full power is released, it is comparable to the Sword of Promised Victory.

· Agnito Mantra: Upon the activation of this Phantasm, an arrow released from Vjiya becomes 80,000 each as strong as an A+ ranked phantasm.

· Varun Astra A+: Manifests as an arrow of Water.

· Nagastra: A+: Anti-Person: Can hit one target unerringly, though, should the target be Arjuna, it will not hit his head.

· Brahmanda astra: Anti-Divine Construct: A++. A phantasm that can only be described as a defensive weapon.

· Bhargava Astra: A

Kavacha and Kundala A: Reduces all attacks against him to 1/10 of their original power and value.

Bramahstra Kundala A+

Pashupatastra: EX

* * *

Caster of Red 1: Mayasura

 **STATS**

STR: C

END:C

AGI: B

MAN: EX

LCK: A+

 **Class Skills**

Item Construction: EX

Territory Creation: EX

High Speed Divine Words: A

 **Personal Skills**

Divinity: A

Builder: A+

Weapon Crafter: EX

 **Noble Phantasm**

Tripura: EX. The three cities of Bronze, Silver, and Gold.

Hall of Illusions; A++

* * *

Caster of Red 2: Baba Yaga

 **STATS**

STR: C

AGI: C

END: E

MAN: EX

LCK: A

NP: EX

 **Class Skills**

Territory Creation: EX

Item Construction: A

Indépendant Action: A++

 **Personal Skills**

Witch of the Stories (Combines, Magecraft, Witchcraft, High-Speed Divine Words, and Illusionism): A++

Familiars (Spirits): B

Divinity: C

Shapeshift: A

Riding: A

 **Noble Phantasm**

Mortar and Pestle: B+

A house with Chicken Legs: A+

Stories of the Steppes: EX


	3. Chapter 3

Sable and Scarlet Chapter 3

The world exploded into clay and fire. From the sky came arrows of flame and lightning, and from the earth came spears of clay.

Jeanne and George barely managed to throw up their shielding Noble Phantasms, and they were still thrown clear into the adjacent field next to the road.

Thinking fast, the two Saints sprinted in opposite directions.

"Why are you doing this, Lancer and Archer?" Saint George inquired, his banner and spear at the ready, as he deflected a shower of earthly swords while Lancer of Red rushed him.

"We are the arbitrators of the Holy Grail War. Do you understand the ramifications of bearing your fangs at us?" Jeanne asked as she dodged a small hail of arrows, whilst Archer harried after her, each arrow like a rocket-propelled missile.

Karna's gaze seemed stronger than steel, even as he kept firing. "Asking questions for answers that you already know is quite foolish, Jeanne d'Arc. Our presence here is a declaration of war. As for why our Masters have ordered this attack, I cannot say. Nor do I care to know."

No more words left the lips of the Son of Surya, and battle was resumed.

Meanwhile, Saint Georgios could only tense and steady himself as he ran and drew his sword, just as Lancer suddenly appeared in front the Dragon slayer.

When Lancer's fist hit, it was only through the timely crossing of his sword and his lance that George managed to even partially deflect the blow, though he was still sent skidding backwards, though he managed to remain on his feet, albeit somewhat unsteadily.

Lancer gave an appraising glance over the Dragon Slayer. "Hmm… While your strength is nothing too special, your endurance is quite impressive, Christian Saint. Most others would not have been able to take a blow from me and remain standing or alive, much less partially deflect it like you did."

Despite himself, Saint George smiled. "I am truly humbled by your earnest praise, Chain of Heaven. As for my endurance? What can I say, except that the Lord has seen fit to bless me with the strength and will to stand ready against any and all challenges?"

Lancer chuckled as it sped forward, fists and spears at the ready. "I would not put much stock in the blessings and whims of the divine, though that may just be personal bias's speaking. My friend, on the other hand, would have destroyed you for proclaiming to be blessed by any sort of divinity. He always detested such fools."

It punctuated that last statement with an extremely powerful blow that created a small crater when The Dragon-Slaying Saint barely leapt backwards out of the way.

Soon, the two Saints were side by side once more, a bit battered, but determined not to fall, with the two mighty Servants facing them.

"Get behind me, Lady Jeanne," Gerogios whispered. "When they attack, my Guardian Knight skill may be able to take their blows, at least long enough for you to escape."

"I will do no such thing. I stand with you, Georgios, live or die. We are Saints, after all."

As Lancer made more spears rise from the ground, Karna nocked another arrow to his bow, raised it skyward, and then released. As it soared and arced overhead, he shouted three words, each filled with terrible and awesome power.

A Noble Phantasm!

 ** _Vjiya: Agnito Mantra!_**

Like the comet that ended the prehistoric age, down from the night swarmed tens of thousands of flaming arrows.

If this was to be their end, the two saints were prepared to die with their eyes wide open. They readied their banners.

Overhead, the moon gleamed…

Then, from the darkness, came a mighty and proud voice, like the roar of a lion, and his words filled the air.

 ** _Shooting Hundred Heads!_**

In the next moment, over a hundred gleaming arrows flew through the skies, which intercepted all the fiery missiles, filling the sky with more explosions than an American Foruth of July celebration.

Down through the conflagration descended a wild figure, full of bloodlust, who froze all of Enkidu's clay projectiles with a mighty blast of frost from his mouth. The Rider of Black, and the devouring Wolf, Vánagandr. In his right hand was a large dane axe, and in his left was a smaller one. Both weapons practically sang out for blood to drink.

With a wild and bloody scream echoing from his mouth, his weapons collided with ones that Lancer of Black quickly conjured. The resulting soundwave seemed to spread for miles around.

Then, from the darkness emerged a figure of truly epic and heroic proportions. Jeanne and George knew him instantly as Heracles, the Hero of Greece, the Archer of Black, and the man who had shot the arrows. Upon his right shoulder sat a pretty girl of sixteen years, and his bow was still raised up. The long red cloth on his arm softly glowed.

"A fellow Archer," Karna noted, as he readied another arrow to his shining bow. "That was well shot, Archer of Black."

"Indeed. I must complement you on your bow craft as well, Archer of Red," replied Heracles as the girl on his shoulder slipped off to the ground, only to be caught by four mechanical arms sprouting from her back. "Though, it will do you no good against me."

"That remains to be seen."

Flames and sparks of lighting then burst into being around Karna. "I am Karna, son of the Sun God Surya. May this battle be one to remember."

A similar aurora of power flashed into existence around Heracles. "Since you have revealed unto me your true name and identity, Son of Surya, then it is only fair that I do the same. I am Heracles, son of Zeus and Alcmene. May this battle be truly unforgettable, Hero of Charity!"

Arrows then flew straight and true from their loosed strings, and the battle was swiftly resumed.

* * *

Jeanne and Georgios took a moment to regain their composure and breath, while the four servants battled each other. They then noticed the master of Heracles ambling towards them on her mechanical limbs. "Rulers. I thank the heavens that you are both alright. I have come to welcome you to Romania. I am Princess Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia. It is a true honor to meet you."

"We thank you for your timely assistance, Master of Heracles," Jeanne said.

"I am happy with your praises. Now, if you would be so kind as to accompany us back to Yggdmillennia Castle?" the princess asked.

Almost as one, the Saints shook their heads. "No, I am afraid that we cannot do that."

A refusal… had not been what Fiore Yggdmillennia had been expecting.

* * *

"Now this is a battle!" Cried the Rider of Black, as his laughter filled the night sky, like the howls of a wolf. On the Lancer of Red's face was a smile that, though small, still spoke volumes of its own blood lust. As they clashed, ice and clay exploded against the other.

This mad warrior reminded him a small bit of his friend, the Lancer mused, as he twisted under and around a swift wing of the dane axe, letting the weapon instead dig a deep furrow in to the ground. How amusing.

Then, a lucky strike of the Rider's hand axe bit deeply into Lancer's side.

Rider's howl of triumph was then cut short by Lancer rearing back and headbutting him in the nose, making the Servant of the Mount stumble back. As he did, the hand axe, still tight in his grip, ripped free in a messy and noisy discharge.

On anyone, or anything, else, it would have been a mortal wound. For Enkidu, it was not even an annoyance, especially as the wound glowed, and then seemed to sew itself shut.

Rider took note of the healing and licked his lips. "Heh. Just makes this more fun. Guess you're just going to need a lot of tenderizing!"

Meanwhile, the site of the bout between the two archers was swiftly being pockmarked with craters.

Karna sped backwards, his feet hardly touching the ground, and he pulled back tightly on his glowing bow as he weaved around a hundred rapidly descending, missile-sized arrows.

Breathe.

Release!

The arrow impacted into Heracles' chest, and then, there was naught but flames.

Through the conflagration, The Hero of Greece barreled forward, his bow now dematerialized, and his fist raised up into a pankration form.

Without even thinking, Karna dematerialized Vjiya, and intercepted Heracle's fist with his own. The resultant soundwave felt as if it could have flattened a mountain.

Each of the countless blows that they then exchanged and parried between them seemed to hold more power within them then the bomb that devastated Hiroshima. A thousand blows were exchanged over the course of ten seconds.

Twenty.

Forty.

One minute.

Five.

Then, they both leapt back, though their fists were still raised.

Heracles then burst out with deep and rumbling laughter. "A most magnificent battle, Archer of Red! I did not expect to encounter another bowman who was so proficient in the art of hand-to-hand combat! This technique of yours, most extraordinary!"

"I learned many fighting techniques throughout my life. It is nothing of any great concern. What I am using now is known in my homeland as musti-yuddha. However, I must compliment you on your fighting as well, Son of Zeus."

Heracles smirked, as he raised his fists once more. "Truly, a most excellent form and fight indeed!"

They stood there, for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

Karna then spoke. "Your prowess and strength remind me very much of two warriors who opposed me, long ago. Perhaps, that means that this battle was already determined by fate. As you said… a most excellent battle!"

At that moment, as if they were of one mind, they both sped towards the other once more with a sonic boom, arms and fists raised, when Karna's red eye suddenly began to glow.

It was too late for Heracles to arrest his velocity.

 **Brahmastra!**

* * *

"I don't understand. The Red Faction has clearly decided to act in direct violations of the rules by attacking. Will you not aid us against them, then?"

"I'm afraid that we cannot come with you." Jeanne repeated. "nor are we allowed or obligated to interfere in a battle between Servants."

"Why not? The Red faction has clearly shown its ill intent by attempting to have you both assassinated! Would it not be more sensible to accept our offer of protection and hospitality?"

"Negative. As Rulers, we are obligated to remain neutral in this War. We can only directly intervene when there has been a flagrant disregard for the rules and Guidelines. If there are no infractions, we cannot favor one side over the other, no matter the circumstances."

It seemed that the two would not be budged on that. As such, Fiore could not do much else, save just dangle awkwardly on the Manipulator's legs.

Then, from the direction of the two Servants of the Bow, there was a great and mighty explosion…

Then it dispersed, and the Archer of Red was seen battling Heracles hand-to-hand once more, though the Hero of Greece was now covered in massive burns all over.

* * *

Shirou stood quietly, his eyes closed, and his thoughts deep in contemplation as he stood in the shadows of the church.

His right hand tightened around his cane, as he opened his eyes, and looked towards the moon.

"Hmmm. It would seem that time has run out for now. Oh well."

He then closed his eyes once more, and concentrated, before sending out a message.

* * *

The sun was starting to rise, and yet, the first battle of the Holy Grail War showed no signs of letting up.

Suddenly, Archer and Lancer of Red paused in their respective battles, making their opponents stop in confusion.

The Archer of Red then looked towards the horizon and the rising sun, and back towards the Hero of Greece. "It would seem that our masters have ordered us to retreat. This battle has been most enjoyable, Archer of Red, though, at this rate, we will be fighting until the next sunset, and I don't think your master will be able to handle such a strain. I only hope that we get the chance to resume it in the near future."

Nearby, Lancer of Red smiled and nodded in understanding, and then, with impossible speed, suddenly sped, indeed, almost teleported, and punched Rider of Black in the chin with a swift uppercut, _hard_. The Servant of the Mount was sent flying away onto the opposite side of the road, kicking up a small mountain of debris. In the moment, the Lancer of Red and Archer swiftly disappeared into motes of light.

As they did, Rider of Black swiftly righted himself. "Hey, don't leave me hanging back here, ya green haired bastard!"

After a good and solid minute of cursing, which involved a colorful and creative mixture of Nordic and Celtic swearwords, he calmed down, and then shrugged. "Ah, well."

Fiore looked almost scandalized that he had said such things in the presence of two saints.

The Rider then looked upon the strange blood that was still dripping down off of his weapon. He raised it to his face, gave a sniff, and then… licked it.

A flash of realization then burst across his bearded face. "So, it's that kind of thing, huh?"

He smiled a thing of pure rage and licked his lips. "This is going to be a fun War indeed."

The sound of large footsteps made Fiore raise her head, as Heracles approached. Fiore looked upon her Servant with some concern, taking in his half-melted face, and the burns all over his chest. She could even see pieces of glistening bone sticking out. He seemed to have noticed and gave her a small smile as his wounds continued to slowly heal. "Nothing to worry about Master. Between my Nemean Skin, Hippolyta's girdle, and God Hand, I have only lost one life. I shall be fine. Besides, it will regenerate in little to no time, thanks to the homunculi. Truly, a most magnificent battle. I look forward to meeting that golden Archer on the battlefield once more."

Fiore breathed out a sigh of relief, and then turned to the two Rulers one last time. "Now then, since the battle is done, are you quite sure that I cannot convince you to come with me? If nothing else, then Millennia Castle is a prime location for a safe surveying of the Holy Grail War. Besides, it is a good possibility that the Red faction will try again."

"We thank you for the offer, but we must again decline."

"Indeed. We will make our won way. Besides, our abilities will allow us to monitor all of Trifas."

The Rulers then nodded at the two Servants, and the Princess. "We wish you and your faction good fortune in the War to come."

Seeing that they were not going to be dissuaded, Fiore sighed, and then directed the bronze-link manipulators to deposit her back into the cradle of Archer's arm, who had just finished healing. "Let us depart, Archer. There is nothing more for us here."

"Of course, my lady." With that, The Son of Zeus leapt away in great bounds, his Master safe in hand.

The Hungry Wolf watched them go, looked back at the two Rulers for a moment, shrugged again with a somewhat self-deprecating chuckle, and then dissipated into astral form.

As the morning sun continued to rise, the area became quiet once more.

As they headed back to the road, the two Saints looked down, and saw that their luggage was all scattered about and torn along the road.

They both let out a resigned sigh.

Meanwhile, the grasshoppers began their morning symphony...

* * *

 _Millennia Castle, subterranean level, the Next day._

Paracelsus scanned the massive room, as he often did.

Seventy years, since he had saved Darnic's life. They had accomplished so much.

The massive laboratory seemed less like a workshop, and more like a military hanger. For what seemed like miles, there were tank after tank. Most, if not all, were filled with a sleeping and gestating homunculus. Floating all around the workshop were Paracelsus's elementals.

On the other end of the laboratory, Roche and Avicebron were in charge of creating the massive golems that were to be used on the front lines. Currently, Roche was dressed in strudy workamn's clothes, with an industrial-grade gas mask, and a heavy leather apron. Other homunculi that were dressed similarly to either the boy, or to Paracelsus, roamed about the workshop, carrying out their assigned tasks, while masked soldiers overlooked everything.

Paracelsus looked over the floating homunculi, each like a sleeping fetus within their tanks, and clad as much as a fetus, that is, in nothing.

Lightly patting the tank in front of him, Caster walked over towards the autopsy tables that had been set up away from the tanks. The dead homunculi snipers from the night before were laid across the tables, already cut open. What he had already discovered in his preliminary examination had been quite fascinating.

The Necromancer, Kairi Sisigou, had used hydra venom. The Father of Alcehmy had not been sure that any source of the venom had been left in the world and was happy to have been proven wrong. The substance was extremely effective, as it had liquidated all the internal organs to nothing more than bloody mush.

He was already hard at work, and, indeed, almost done with, synthesizing an antivenom. He might even be able to make the next batch of homunculi immune!

Of course, this was not his only project.

The footsteps and the voice of young Roche made him look up from the corpses. "Mister Paracelsus! The stones are almost finished. They're at the rubedo stage."

Ah, excellent. "Thank you, Roche. I shall be there momentarily."

Such an excitable boy, that one. Like he did with many of the Frain and Musik Clan, Paracelsus looked upon the boy as a sort of adopted grandchild.

At the very least, he had done away with that abominable practice the Frains had of letting golems raise their children. Honestly, such an upbringing was very damaging to the development of a child.

With a final look at the corpses, the Father of Alchemy strode away and over to his student's side. As he did, he was soon joined by his fellow Caster. "Have you located a suitable core yet for your Noble Phantasm, Caster?"

Avicebron shook his helmeted head in response. "Unfortunately, no. None of the homunculi here have shown to possess the required circuits. It is becoming rather vexing."

"I am sorry. Maybe the next batch will yield better fruit? If not, then perhaps a philosopher's stone may be of use?"

"No. The core has to be a living thing, else Adam will be… subpar, to say the least."

"I understand. On a different note, how goes production on the other golems?"

"Exponentially well. The Philosopher Stones you created over the last Seventy Years have been able to help speed up the process at an exceptional rate. As such, I must thank you, as we are now well ahead of schedule."

"Think nothing of it. It is my pleasure to be of assistance."

As they walked, they passed by a small contingent of newly grown and outfitted soldiers. Avicebron then suddenly paused in front of one of the masked homunculi guards. He took note of the identification tag on its shoulder pad; S1-E6.

"Hmmm… interesting."

* * *

S1-E6 was, by nature and creation, a creature of simple tastes and habits. S1-E6 a soldier like the other Linked, it was what S1-E6 was created for, and thus, what S1-E6 was good at. The Soldier Drone owed life and allegiance to the Father who made the homunculi, the Source and Hive that connected them all, and the country of Romainia, for which S1-E6 would gladly give S1-E6's life.

It was what it, and the other homunculi, were created for, after all. To fight and Serve.

Although, even S1-E6 had to feel a bit uncomfortable when the not-homunculus in the golden mask had scrutinized S1-E6 like that, and it caused the soldier to unconsciously shift about and tighten its grip on his assault rifle….

* * *

It was almost an unspoken rule in the moonlit community that modern technology was inelegant, and, therefore, unusable.

There were a few magi families that did not follow this mindset, the Yggdmillennia being among that number. Caules and Jinkao especially were great advocates for the usage of the internet, for instance, which was why they both had their own personal computers in their room (though Jinkao also had a large TV and three laptops).

At the moment, having really nothing else to do, Caules was busy just surfing the web, in-between research on his servant. From what he had seen in the memory cycle, Berserker's life seemed more in line with that of Minamoto no Raikou, and there seemed to be no record of any Ushi-Gozen.

Then, it clicked, and aligned with what he had seen.

How…. Sad…

The sound of his door slamming open jarred Caules from his ruminations, and he had to suppress both a terrified spine-shiver, and a resigned sigh.

"There you are, dear! You should not be on that device so much. You'll strain your eyes!"

Without any effort, she plucked him up from the chair, and started to carry him out of the room. "You need some fresh air and sunlight, like any growing child. So, let's go."

At this point, he knew better than to try and struggle, despite how ridiculous he looked, being cradled in her arms.

Soon enough they were outside, and yet, she had not yet set him down. As she continued to walk, Caules could not help but think about the memories he had seen, and what he had researched.

"What is your wish, mama?" he then asked.

That seemed to grab her attention, and she then set him down. "Oh, why do you want to know, dear?"

"It's just…. I feel that if I know why you answered my call, then we can work together better. Besides, I've seen your memories, how you were sent away and raised as a male for all your life, and even had to pretend to be your own sister. You went on so many adventures and yet, in a twisted way, could never accept credit for any of it."

She looked at him for a long moment, an unreadable expression in her eyes. For a moment, Caules wondered if he had said something wrong.

Then, she smiled, and gently embraced him, much to his shock. It felt… nice. "It's simple. I just want the chance to be a mother again. As for why I answered your summons? Well, I heard a child's plea for love and help. What sort of mother would I be if I did not do everything in my power to answer that sort of call?"

Caules did not know how to answer that. Even more odd was the fact that he found himself returning the hug.

He had never really had much of a maternal figure growing up, and father had not really been what one could call "parental" material. Aside from Jin, big sis, and Ophelia, Caules had no truly known any sort of love, especially as he was only the spare.

This though? This just felt nice. "Thank you, mama."

She pulled away for a moment, though her arms were still loosely around him. "And what about you, sweetheart? What's your desire for the Grail?"

"Huh? Well, actually, I haven't really made up my mind just yet?"

"Oh?"

Her strong gaze made the spectacled boy babble a bit. "B-but it's not like I don't have one! I mean, since I am a magus after all, so I do hold within me aspirations of reaching the swirl of the Root. But, the thing is… you know my older sister, the one in the wheel chair?"

She nodded.

"Well, let's say that if she were to die before this War was over, then I might just try to bring her back to life, you know? For me, my big sister is far more important than the Root that I'll reach in a hundred years, y'know?"

She looked at him for a long moment, an unknown expression in her eyes, and she then resumed her hug. "You are really a sweet boy, Caules. It's lovely. In fact, I'll make sure that you reach the end, you and your adorable sister. You will win."

Then, the hug tightened, and he found his face once more squashed against her _assets._ "So don't worry. Mama will take _extra_ good care of you all! I will shower you with all of my love and support!"

And the moment was now gone, and he was flailing about once more. "Mph! Mmmph!"

Did she have to hug so tightly!?

* * *

Fiore sipped on her favorite brand of tea. It was quite good. Then she looked to her left and saw Heracles had materialized beside her. There was a strange expression on his face.

"Hello Archer, is everything well?"

"Yes. However, I wish to speak with you."

"Oh, what about?"

"Yesterday, I asked you whether or not you were prepared to fight your own brother over the Grail and your wish, if such a scenario were to occur."

That nearly made her drop her teacup. Thankfully, she instead managed to set it down on the table in time, and she then craned her neck up to look at him. "A-and I told you that…"

"You told me that you were a superior magus, yes, but you did not answer my question entirely. So now, I am not asking if you are stronger than your brother, I am asking if you would be willing to kill him, should the situation ever arise, and he was all that was left standing between you and your wish to have your legs back being made manifest."

"What about you Archer, if you were in that position?" Fiore asked, in an attempt at deflection.

"My answer would be simple… I have the blood of too many children on my hands as it is, and I would never willingly add to that. But this is not about me. Please, Fiore. Answer my question. I _have_ to know."

Seeing as how he would not give up on this, Fiore sighed. "…If there was no other choice… no. I would never do such a thing. He is still my little brother, and, as ridiculous as it sounds for a Magus, I love him. So, in all honesty… I would not. There would be no reason for it anyway. We would never do such a thing to each other."

Heracles studied her for a long moment and then smiled again. "You are a very kind soul, Fiore. Don't ever change, for that is your strength."

Despite the somberness of the previous conversation, she could help but feel her cheeks warm.

Heracles then lightly slapped his crossed legs, the sound seeming more like the light _ping_ of metal against metal, stood up into a slight crouch, and delicately began to push her wheelchair down the hall. "Now then, how about we both get something to eat, eh Master?"

Fiore could not help but smile. "Sure. Why not?"

* * *

Ophelia had not been sure what to expect when Rider had returned with Archer and cousin Fiore.

She definitely had not been expecting him to storm into the courtyard and demolish twenty axe targets, and then even the ground in a massive fit of anger, all the while ranting about a "green-haired bastard," who she assumed to be the Lancer of Red. They had all watched the battle, after all.

So, at the moment, all she could do was simply wait until he calmed down. Since he showed no sign of doing that, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

With a sigh, she swiftly traced a hagalaz in the air, and from it shot for a solid piece of hail the size of a baseball, and it went straight towards Rider's head, bouncing off of his skull with a hard _bonk_.

He paused in his rampage and turned towards her. "The hell was that for, Master?"

"You're acting like a child. Just calm down and tell me why you're so worked up."

He took a few deep breaths, though his blue eyes were still brimming with rage. "That Lancer. I knew its blood tasted familiar. It's a fucking Divine Construct given human form, and it tasted just like that shitty ribbon that the fucking gods bound me with for so long."

"You mean Gleipnir?"

He gave a dark and hungry laugh. "You better fucking believe it. I swear by Hel that when I meet that Lancer again, I am going to rip out its throat with my bare teeth, over and over again until he stays dead."

"Indeed. Very well, just be sure to not let your anger get the better of you and make you destroy this garden. I happen to like it."

He took a deep breath and seemed to have finally calmed down. He then looked her over. "That was some good rune work back there. I actually felt it. You seem to know your runes. Want to spar? You look like you know your way around a battle."

Despite the fact that she had been expecting this particular possibility, it still was an odd request.

Nonetheless, she still felt a bit of excitement at fighting a figure from the stories that Bazett had read to her as children.

"Very well, but don't expect me to go easy on you, Rider."

That earned her a laugh.

* * *

 _Stavropoleos Church Cemetery, Bucharest_

One of the things that Kairi had always liked about cemeteries was that, no matter the time of day, or its location, or even size, a cemetery was always rather quiet, which helped as a factor for a good base for him. Plus, there was the fact that people rarely visited cemeteries, though, just to safe, he had established a bounded field around it that subconsciously made people lose what little interest they had in the area and go away. It was perfect.

Now, though it was still a great location, ever since he had summoned Berserker, its quiet factor had dropped.

"Man, you must really be insane, to be cooping us up in this dreary catacomb all day," Saber complained, fingering a skull and lounging on her sleeping roll as she spoke.

Kairi did not pause in the whittling and sharpening of his hydra-bone dagger as he replied. "Just relax, would ya? Being here should allow you to regain your depleted magical energy pretty quickly."

With a groan, Saber tossed away the skull and crawled up to him. "The amount of magical energy that I have isn't the problem, dammit!"

"Oh, then what is? Don't tell me that you're scared."

"Screw you, I'm not scared! I just can't stand getting such poor treatment in crappy place like this!"

"What's so crappy about it? Easy to defend, hard to assault; it's a great place."

Besides, for the moment, Kairi thought it best to lie low for a good bit. Considering that the Yggdmillennia were the rulers of Romania, the last thing he andSaber needed, especially after last night, was unwanted attention, or having to fight off an army of Darnic Yggdmillennia's white soldiers.

Saber's griping cut through his thoughts. "You do realize that I used to be a knight, don't you? Even if I wasn't, no one even remotely normal would ever want to accept these conditions!"

"Okay, okay, I get it. If you want to go outside, you're more than welcome to do so." Though, he kind of hoped she wouldn't. Subtly was not exactly in her skillset.

Instead of placating her, somehow that offer only seemed to aggravate her more. Case in point, she was now rolling on her back with her feet gripped in her hands and whining like a little kid. "But it would just be boring if I'm all by myself!"

"What are you, four years old or something?" Who would have thought that the infamous Knight of Rebellion would have the disposition of a little kid?

She paused in her motions to glare at him. "Excuse me, but do you not remember that assault from last night, Master? The enemy clearly does not care if they attack in the middle of town. Plus, as you should well know, my Noble Phantasms are Anti-Army types, and I refuse fight in any way that will involve commoners getting caught and killed in the crossfire."

Oh? Maybe she was a bit more mature and saner than he had originally thought? Whatever. "Yeah, yeah, I'll try to make sure that civilians are far away from the vicinity, your Majesty."

Their campsite was quiet for a moment as he went back to his carving and whittling. Then, his last two words finally seemed to register in her brain. "Wait… what the fuck did you just call me?"

"I simply addressed you as a king should be addressed."

Judging from her confused silence, Kairi continued. "You didn't know? You called the people 'commoners' instead of civilians. Now, a high and mighty word such as that is usually reserved for royalty. Besides," he paused in his work again and looked directly at his perplexed servant. "Your wish from the Grail is to become king, isn't it? So, if that's the case, then I don't see a reason why there should be any issue with me addressing you as a King in this situation, your Majesty. Unless you think there should be?"

That really seemed to throw his servant for a bit of a loop, making her look down in embarrassment. "Well… no…uh… I mean…"

He resumed his work. "Don't involve civilians in battle whenever possible. That is what you want, right?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I mean… Of course! That's right. The act of assaulting commoners for magical energy is also forbidden, just so you know!"

Fine by him. That sort of thing was not really his style anyway. "Then, with that said…" Their conversation was then interrupted by the skeleton arm device that he used for long distance communication with other magi beginning to move and write with the quill attached to its fingers, making a rattling sound that filled their living space.

Once the arm had finished writing, Kairi looked at the sent message. "It's from Shirou. What the…?"

Saber leaned over his shoulder and read the rest of it herself, the content of which caused her to smirk. "Wow. Says here that a Servant from our side just went out of control and is storming the enemy's fortress. Huh."

She then looked right at him and smirked, causing Kairi to groan in exasperation. Things… had just gotten a bit more complicated, it would seem.

Also, what kind of Servant, aside from Berserker, would just go out of control?

* * *

 _Forest of Trifas._

The black mass with red eyes sped along, destroying anything that stood in its path.

 **"ARRRRRRRGH!"**

Even as it trod on several landmines, it did not slow down in the slightest.

 **"ARRRRRRRGH!"**

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

From within the throne room, the Black faction watched as the image of the black mass making its way towards their headquarters was transmitted through a familiar.

"Comrades," Darnic said, from his customary place at the left side of Lancer's throne. "Regardless of the time of day, the servant you see here is headed straight towards Millennia Castle. I can only guess at this Servant's class, but it would appear to be another Berserker-class Servant."

As he spoke, the thing suddenly roared, and swiped with what seemed to be a hand, and the image cut out.

"So, what should be done," Fiore asked. "Anything?"

The look upon Darnic's unsmiling face would have sent chills down the spine of a demon, as would have the dark look that danced in his purple eyes. "Why, we take advantage of it, of course. If we play our cards right, then soon we can turn this Berserker of Red into a very useful pawn."

"Well then, Darnic," Romulus said with a dignified grin, as he rose from his throne. "Tell Rome of your strategy. Then, we shall let the curtains rise on this glorious battle."

Darnic gave a deep bow. "Of course, my lord."

Meanwhile, helmeted as he was, no one noted the evil smile that etched itself onto Saber's lips. He then spoke. "If I may, Darnic, may I be the one to help apprehend this mad Servant? I am suddenly feeling the urge to stretch my legs…."

* * *

 **A/N Sorry abut the late update. Real life stuff, ya know? Plus, I hope the fight scene was adequate.**


	4. Chapter 4

Sable and Scarlet Chapter 4

As night descended, the enshrouded Servant of Madness continued rushing onwards towards the Headquarters of the Black Faction. Despite having run for over a day, the Berserker was in no way slowing down. Indeed, to its pursuers, it seemed that with every step that took the mad Servant closer to the enemy base, the wilder and more wrathful that it became, with its howls piercing the night.

From the trees, upon branches that held despite their occupants being armored and armed, stood the Berserker's pursuers. The first was a vision of startling, pale-skinned beauty, clad in a knee-length dress of black, green, and silver. Her green-and-white hair hung wild and free past the small of her back, and her skin was both pale and olive in complexion. She was svelte, yet hardened, and her green-and-yellow eyes were focused on the task at hand, while one of her clawed hands lightly gripped a long, angular bow of black, blue, gold, and purple.

What stood out about her was two things; her lion-like ears, and her long feline tail that swished about her ankles. She was the type of person who would pursue her prey without falter, and, indeed, would not rest until it lay dead at her feet. This figure was an Archer, the Heroic Spirit of the Bow.

The second of the group was a young, lean and muscled man of a strong and firm build and a tanned, Mediterranean complexion. He was clad in black metal and leather armor with yellow highlights, pauldrons, greaves, sabatons, cuisse and vambraces, along with two long strips of orange cloth streaming from his shoulder-blades. The whole set was oddly formfitting in some places. Belted at his side was a simple sword of ancient Greek design.

This man's most distinguishing features were his sharp and clear raptor-like eyes, and his yellow-green hair, like the female's stripes, which was close shaven to his scalp, save for a shock of it that stood up like a proud crest, and one large bang that fell across the left side of his face. This man was the sort who would always be found at the head of a charging army with a smile on his face, a smile that, outside of the battlefield, could send even the most virtuous of maidens and wives into a blushing fluster.

This was a Rider, the Heroic Spirit of the Mount. He and the others watched as the howling Berserker tore its way through several golems that had been attempting to halt its progress.

"Must be kind of bizarre chasing after yourself, huh?" he asked of the group's third member.

The Knight in white armor looked at him with minor annoyance. He was a Saber, the Heroic Spirit of the Blade. "I would rather not discuss my relation to that _thing,_ Rider, if you would be so kind."

"Fair enough, but, I mean, ya gotta admit that this is kind of weird, seeing a Berserk version of yourself."

"Perhaps, though I am sure you know all about going mad with rage, do you not?"

Though the Rider laughed, he still made a tight fist with his left hand, as that statement brought up bad memories. "Man, for a knight, ya sure hit below the belt."

"Stop arguing, you two. We must remain focused."

"Hey, there was no offence meant, Missy. Just trying to make some conversation."

She then looked over her shoulder at the Rider, a minor expression of annoyance fliting across her face. "As I have told you before, _Achilles_ , do not call me 'missy,' my name is Atalante. Either call me that, or Archer."

"Alright, alright, don't get your cute little tail in a twist. It's just a term of endearment. Besides, I'm already taken."

With a sigh of annoyance, The Chaste Huntress turned back to the scene below them. At the moment, the Berserker was buys bludgeoning the golems to pieces with a discarded golem arm. "Do you think we should abandon Berserker, Rider, Saber?"

The White knight replied first, though he kept his gaze on the mad figure below. "Personally, I would elect to leaving that _thing_ behind. We are deep enough in the enemy territory as it is, and it is only a matter of time before the Black faction rises to confront that raving lunatic."

Achilles chuckled again. "Man, I've heard of hating yourself, but you really take it to a whole new level, huh?"

Before Saber could fire back a retort, Atalante suddenly stiffened as she sniffed the air. This did not go unnoticed by her companions. "What is it?" Achilles asked.

"It's them. They are coming."

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

At the front fate of the Great Castle, Romulus, Darnic, Paracelsus, Roche, Caster, Saber, Rider, Ophelia, and Gordes were all assembled. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of destruction as the enshrouded Berserker slowly made its way towards the fortress.

Darnic shook his head and sighed. "Such a gruesome and sorry sight. I can almost feel the despair echoing through the Servant's madness, even from here. In a way, it is almost as if this Berserker was born to fight and hate, which means that his life was preordained to end in nothing but tragedy. Indeed, for one such as that, from what Saber has told us of this Servant, then death in battle would probably be considered a mercy at best."

Though, Darnic knew better than most the madness that could result from the sorrow of surviving.

Romulus assumed a mighty stance and pointed his strange spear in the attacker's direction. "Fellow compatriots of Rome! The time has now come to overpower this mad insurgent who has dared to trespass upon our borders! If you would Saber, since you were the first to volunteer, then you shall be the vanguard in this battle. Rider and Berserker shall not be far behind."

"Very well, though they will be unnecessary in this task."

Gordes then spoke up. From the slight flush on his face, it seemed like he had been in his personal stash of liquors. "That's right, Saber! Now then, go…" When the helmeted Servant turned to look at him, the portly alchemist then spluttered and stuttered a bit before clearing his throat. "Er… just…show us your power!"

Darnic had to restrain himself from sighing in embarrassment.

What an utter fool.

With a final nod, Saber then held out his hand, and uttered a single word.

 ** _Drynwyn._**

Into his open hand materialized a sword with a blade of white flame, and an ivory hilt and handle that were encrusted with expertly cut precious stones. He gave it a few experimental twirls, and then sped off towards and into the forest on foot, not even bothering to summon his steed.

* * *

Through the forest Saber propelled forward, weaving around trees with such grace that it seemed almost bizarre that he was clad from head to toe in heavy plate armor.

He was eager for this battle. He could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue.

Before long, he had arrived, just as the Berserker had finished pummeling a golem to dust with his hands.

Saber of Black scrutinized the enshrouded Servant. "I must admit, when I saw that it was you, even through your haze, I was pleasantly surprised. How far you have fallen, oh mighty knight. Yet, how disgustingly appropriate what you have become so as to reflect your crimes, _Lancelot."_

At the mention of that legendary name, the shrouding fog dissipated, and revealed a terrifying figure, sheathed from head to toe in armor the color of dark purple midnight. The armor was all ridges and sharp edges and tassels and ragged tabard, and the berserker's head was entirely encapsulated by a full helmet, while the slit in the visor glowed a strange red.

When the fallen knight's hidden gaze looked full upon the Saber of Black, he began to shake.

Saber gave a hidden smirk, as he raised his flaming sword. "You recognize this body, don't you? Good. That will make things more interesting. Now, ready your sword, Knight of the Lake. I have been famished for a little entertainment in this dreary War."

Into the Fallen Knight of the Lake's shaking hand materialized great and powerful sword, that was almost as long as the mad knight was tall, with strange and arcane lettering that sprawled down its length. Once, it had been a beautiful and holy blade, the sister to another more famous weapon to whom its wielder had once served most loyally. Once, it had seemed made of shining silver and gold and nobility.

Once, it truly and rightly could have been called the Sword of the Knight of Knights.

Now, due to how it had been used to cut down his fellow knights and brothers-in-arms, during his madcap rescue of Guinevere, Lancelot's blade was now forever darkened, at least within the confines of the Berserker Class container. Almost as if to symbolize its owner's bondage in madness, two tarnished chains were looped across the equally tarnished hilt.

This was Arondight, the Unfading Light of the Lake, now forever dimmed.

Then, the Fallen Knight of the Lake let loose another rending howl, only, this time, it was an actual word, as he charged to the Saber of Black, the blackened Arondight raised high.

 **"ARRRRRRTHURRR!"**

The unholy blade of Arondight clashed against the burning steel of Rhydderch Hael's sword with a strange and great clang.

Despite his ever-present state of madness, the Knight of the Lake still managed to wield his blade with all the skill that he had been possessed of in life, almost as if it were ingrained into his very being. This was shown when he expertly parried aside a feinting slash from the flaming blade.

The Saber of Black simply laughed as he riposted and stabbed forward against his opponent.

What fun. What fun!

* * *

In the trees, the three pursuers watched the battle below. "Should we… help him?" Achilles asked.

Atalante give him a sardonic glance. "If you wish to intervene in that duel, then by all means, go ahead."

Achilles looked down upon the battle once more, at the rapid flurry of slashes and cuts and parry and stabs and dodges that were exchanged. The two knights even felled entire trees with their errant strikes.

The son of Peleus enjoyed battle, but, even to one such as him, this felt like something that should not be intruded upon. "Nah. Not worth it. What do you think, Saber?"

The Saber, who was clad in armor the mirror image of the Black Knight's, save for its color, looked down upon the battle with rapt attention. But his purple eyes were not focused upon his twisted reflection. No, his gaze was firmly set upon the Berserker's opponent, who seemed oddly familiar to the White Knight.

Why was he so familiar?

* * *

Saber was truly beginning to enjoy himself.

Ever since he had been summoned by that fool Gordes, he had thought that this War would hold no appealing or challenging opponent for him to face.

But now, here he was, fighting Lancelot, even if the Knight of the Lake was in such a reduced and degraded state. It was as if the gods themselves were rewarding him.

Still, he could only relish in this battle for so long. He had promised to end it quickly, after all.

So, after parrying an overhead slash, and with their weapons now in a lock once again, Saber, with strength well beyond that of a mortal man, freed one of his hands from his weapon's hand and slammed it hard enough into the Berserker's chest to actually leave a dent, which made the Servant of Madness go flying back, and sent his sword out of his grasp, and into Saber's waiting hand, which he held as if it were no lighter than a feather.

He gave his two blades a flourish each, while Lancelot righted himself and sped back toward the Servant of the Sword, despite his hands being empty, and another howl ripping itself from his throat and lips.

Saber smirked.

With a speed that would have been impossible for anyone else, Saber severed both of Lancelot's legs at the knee with Arondight and Drynwyn, and it sent the mad knight, still caught up in his momentum, careening to the forest floor. His howls of madness were now slightly tinged with roars of pain, while his blood stained the ground.

Still, Saber watched in slight respect as the mad Servant then began to drag himself around and back towards him. " **"Arrrrthurr!"**

With a smirk, Saber dropped Arondight to the ground, where it dissipated in a flurry of black motes. "I admire your tenacity, Knight of the Lake, but this battle is now at an end."

"Indeed, it is!" boomed out Lancer's voice, as he and the other finally approached.

Lancelot ignored him, as he still tried to make his way towards the Saber of Black. Even when, with a gesture from Lancer, massive red roots sprung from the ground to envelope him, the Knight still struggled.

The sight only made Lancer laugh again. "Even in the depths of madness, your single-minded determination to defeat your foe is rather admirable! Rome is mightily impressed!"

With simultaneous gestures, Ophelia and Rider each drew a wispy rune in the air which then surged forward to impact against the side of the Berserker's helmeted head. That finally made him slump out cold.

Darnic stepped forward and circled around the ensnared Berserker. He then glanced towards Paracelsus and Avicebron. "We will take this mad beast back to the castle, where I shall divert and sever the connection to his Master, and then forge and force a pact with it. Paracelsus, and Avicebron, I shall be requiring your assistance in this task as well."

Paracelsus nodded. "Of course."

"You shall help me too, Ophelia, as will Gordes. Your alchemy and runes will be of great use to me in this endeavor."

"Very well."

As a small retinue of homunculi and golems began the arduous task of transporting the captured Berserker away while being led and escorted by Lancer and Saber, Darnic reached out through the collective Link of the Black Faction. _"Are you in position, Archer?"_

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

From atop the battlements of the fortress' tallest tower Heracles stood, a large arrow nocked to his bow, and sighted towards the forest.

Behind him, Fiore watched warily.

 _"I am, Master Darnic. Lady Fiore and I are ready and await only your signal."_

* * *

Upon receiving Archer's confirmation, Darnic looked to his left, as Berserker and Rider materialized. "Rider, Berserker. I shall leave the rest of the Berserker's shadows to you."

Berserker drew her katana, while Rider gripped his dane axe excitedly as they sped off deeper into the forest.

* * *

Leaning against a tree, Achilles whistled an old song his father had once taught him. Slung across his shoulders was his spear, which was already almost singing for battle.

It had been a bit of a shame that the Berserker Lancelot had been captured like that, but it was not like that was much they could have done. At least Saber had taken their advice and retreated. Atalante and their last compatriot were deeper in the forest, arrows at the ready.

At the sound of footsteps, Achille opened his eyes. He saw a tall, well-endowed woman, and a guy with a large axe approaching him.

He looked them over, and smirked. "So, a Berserker, and a Rider, huh? Is that all? They really are underestimating me. I can't help but feel just a bit insulted."

The Rider of Black then chuckled as he hefted his axes and… sniffed the air. "You have a bit of a mouth on you huh? Divine spawn like you really like to think highly of yourselves."

Achille could not help but laugh at that. "HA! Know what, I think I like you. Shame you have to die."

He then kicked off from the tree and shifted and twirled Diatrekhōn Astēr Lonkhē in his hands, pointing its three-pronged head at the blue-haired servant's tattooed head. "My class is Rider, but don't worry, I won't be using my chariot. I hardly need it with only you two here."

The Rider of Black then bared his teeth and rushed forward. "Enough talk. Just shut up and die!"

With a resounding clang, axe-edge bit against spear shaft.

* * *

Atalante fired shot after shot as the tall Berserker rushed towards her position. The Servant of Madness cut the arrows down almost effortlessly. "Come now, little kitty!" The tall woman cried, as purple lightning dance along the edge of her sword. "Let me shower you with all my love!"

As soon as Atalante leapt backwards, the tree she had just been standing on was redecided to blasted splinters. "Come now, don't run away from mama! That's just bad manners!"

A Berserker that could speak coherently. How very bizarre.

None the less, she still had to die.

At that, Atalante then pulled back on Tauroplos' string until it was past her ear. Her knocked arrow then glowed with a purple-and-green light.

Breathe in.

Release!

The moment she did, a giant _thrum_ fill the air, and a giant arrow then proceeded to demolish her missile.

Who had shot that?

Wait. There was only one person who had the strength to shoot such a missile.

Oh no.

* * *

From atop the battlements, Heracles lined up another shot. Seeing Atalante had brought back a few memories, but this was War…

Suddenly, he snapped out his hand. Just as he did so, he caught the arrow that had been zipping towards his master's unprotected head. Immediately, he leapt down and stood protectively in front of her.

Who had shot that? From what he had seen, Atalante had been preoccupied with the battle below….

* * *

Seeing as how the battle was nowhere near in her favor, Atalante decided that it was best to retreat for the night.

If the Archer of Black was who she suspected it to be… then this war had just gotten a bit more complicated, and a bit more interesting.

* * *

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Both with wide grins on their faces, the Rider of Red and the Rider of Black fought, while their laughter pierced their air.

One moment, Red was pushing forward, then Black. Their weapons flashed and cut through the air like scythes, while they employed the shafts of their weapons like quarter staves. Back and forth, back and forth, neither one managing to land a blow on the other, and each collision of their weapons making their bloodlust grow.

As their weapons parted, both jumped back several feet, before rushing again.

Achilles laughed as he dodged a slash from the enemy Rider's sharp axe. In the next moment, the wolf-bastard parried a swift jab and haft blow from Achilles' Diatrekhōn Astēr Lonkhē.

Soon enough, almost as if they were of similar minds, they found themselves in a mirrored lock; each gripping the other's weapon in their free hand.

As they struggled against the other's grip, Achilles smirked. "Is that really all you got, you blue haired bastard? You aren't nowhere near qualified enough to fight against me!" As he said this, the Son of Peleus suddenly reared back his head, and slammed his forehead into Rider of Black's with a loud thud.

Though it snapped his head back, to the blue-haired man's credit, he did not lose his grip on either the spear, or his own axe. Instead, with a mad grin on his face, he then sent his own forehead smashing into Achilles'!

Achilles did not even try to dodge, thinking that nothing would happen. How wrong he was. With a loud thud, Rider of Black's head slammed into Rider of Red's with enough force to make him lose his grip on the crimson spear and sent him staggering back, while Rider of Black jumped back to reorient himself. Even for Servants, headbutting was still a dizzying thing to do!

As they parted weapons, Achilles felt an odd, warm, and wet sensation suddenly begin to run down his forehead. "What?" With a shaking hand, he reached up, and felt it; it was blood. His blood…. His blood!

For a moment, he just looked at the substance in surprise, as if he was unused to the sight of his own blood. Then… he began to laugh, and that laughter was full of joy and blood lust, enough to send whole armies fleeing in fear.

"Hahahahahahahahahaha! Yes, yes, YES! Isn't this wonderful, Rider of Black? Fighting against one who can best me was destined! Oh, Gods of Olympus, may you grant the both of us honor and sacred glory in this battle!"

Rider of Black cracked his neck joints and grinned again. "Are you just going to wax poetic, greenie, or are you going to keep fighting? Besides, you're not the one that I really want to kill in this War."

Despite what the opposing Rider had just said, Achille's expression could not have been more joyous. "Though it pains me to say it, for now I will retreat!" He then raised two fingers to his lips and whistled.

In a bright flash and blinding flash, lighting struck the ground before him, and from it emerged a large metal chariot pulled by three majestic and strong-muscled horses, and it was already in motion.

As he leapt onto it, speeding away in a clatter of hoofbeats, he turned to look back at the Rider of Black. "Let us settle this challenge next time, Rider of Black! Perhaps then, I can learn your true name!"

Then, no doubt to the Rider of Black's slight surprise, the chariot, horses and all, lifted off the ground and zoomed and arced away in a comet-like blaze of white lightning!

* * *

Rider watched the laughing Servant speed away on his chariot. He chuckled, as he licked at the blood that was pouring down from the open bruise on his forehead. "Until next we meet, spawn of the gods…. Man, so many meals in this war to choose from, and so many divines to kill. It makes my stomach want to start rumbling. But first, I still need to rip out the throat of that chain bastard…"

* * *

 _Millennia Castle_

Heracles examined the arrow that had been fired at his master. He recognized it almost instantly, and that realization was accompanied by a small bit of shock. "That's not possible… but, is it? So, it's not just Atalante, but him as well…."

"Is something thee matter, Archer?" Fiore asked, despite having almost been killed.

He gazed at the arrow for a moment longer, and then snapped it in his hand, before looking at her with a small smile on his face. "It is nothing. I just recognized two of the enemy servants. I have a feeling that this will be a rather strange War."

Three Archers opposing him, and two of them from his past.

How exciting!

Though, the fact that he had targeted his Master was… disconcerting to say the least.

* * *

From deep within the forest and far from the site of the battle, a figure looked upon the castle. As he faded from view, the third Archer lowered his curved bow of yellow yew and metal studs. The bowman's skin was much like Achilles', only his leather armor was more simple in its appearance. Yet, it was also expertly tooled, it was of ancient Mediterranean design, while his hair was the color of snow, with a single streak of brown over his left eye.

Oddly enough, he had a horse's tail... and also the entire lower body of a horse, with a coat that was black and brown. Strapped to his side was a quiver full of arrows.

Cheiron looked towards the distant castle, and a small smile etched itself into his lips as he sighted the giant Archer. "Till next we meet, Heracles. I am greatly looking forward to seeing how much you have grown, my dear student…"

* * *

 _Later, Millennia Castle_

By the time that the Berserker's 'flesh wounds' had finished healing, they had already managed to tightly secure him to a reinforced post with chains made by Paracelsus.

Darnic had a full platoon of Homunculi soldiers watching the mad thing with their weapons ever trained on him at every last twitch the Berserker made. They rotated every hour, on the hour. Despite that, he did not make a single move. The Servant, Lancelot, is Saber was to be believed, seemed little more than a statue, save for the soft growls that emanated from his throat every so often.

Still, one could never take any chances with a Servant of Madness, after all.

Soon enough, He, Gordes, Avicebron, Ophelia, and Paracelsus would begin their work on the fallen knight.

With that now done, Darnic then went up to Jinkao's room and knocked on the door.

After his fourth, annoyed knock, Jinkao finally opened the door. As ever, her room was an utter mess, and it was as if she and Assassin had not moved from their respective places in days.

"What have you found?" he asked.

Jinkao looked up at him, typed a few more keys on her laptop, and spoke. "Assassin and I have managed to locate Kairi Sisigou and his Berserker. Two people matching their descriptions just checked into a hotel in Sighisoara earlier this evening."

"And the Rulers?"

"Not sure as of yet."

"Very well. Keep looking. Now, have Fiore, Archer, and a squad of homunculi prepare to move out by tomorrow. Meanwhile, I shall make an announcement to the people."

"About what?"

"About how there is going to be a curfew for the next week or so, country-wide, while the police and army are hunting down a most dangerous fugitive and his accomplice. As their king, I am obligated to do nothing less…."

* * *

S1-E6 took up the ordered position and trained its weapon upon the black knight.

Despite itself, S1-E6 felt the same chill run down its spine as the armored figure briefly glanced in the drone's position.

The drone also… it did not know what it was doing. It had heard the Masters call it 'wondering…'.

Yes, it wondered who this strange being was, and why it was the way that it was. Had there been a defect in its gestation? It had heard the king refer to it as 'Lancelot.'

What a strange designation. Perhaps, when it was able, S1-E6 would find out more about 'Lancelot,' somehow.

To keep itself grounded, the homunculi Soldier began mentally recite the mantra and code that all of its brothers and sisters had been born knowing, the moment that they exited the tanks.

 _We are the Lance, and the Tip of the Spear that is Romania._

 _We hereby pledge to follow the Code._

 _To serve the Father in valor and courage._

 _To Protect the people of Romania._

 _To obey the Father and the Rulers of Romania._

 _To give succor to those who deserve it._

 _To give honor to the Source._

 _To refuse all reward, save for service to the Source and the Father._

 _To do what is right, as according to the Father and the Source._

 _To always speak the truth and tell no falsehoods._

 _To never back down in battle._

 _To die for the Father, the Source, Romania, and its rightful Rulers._

 _To never retreat, even in the face of death._

* * *

 _Unknown_

Shirou walked into the large and shadowed meeting chamber. "Thank you all for meeting with me on such short notice, and so I will cut straight to the point. As I am sure you are all aware by now, we have lost our first Berserker."

"We are very much aware, Shirou, and to say that we are displeased would be a massive understatement. The War has barely begun, and already we are down a Servant," came a female voice from the shadows, one that was at once young and ancient.

A second voice, this one male, chuckled. "Yeah, well, I guess things are starting to get a little _grave_ , am I right? Oh man, I am just on fire, _zombody_ please stop me and drench me with a bucket of water."

Though Shirou chuckled a bit at the joke, everyone else in the room groaned in annoyance at the pun. "Only if I can then drown you in the bucket afterwards. Anyway, must you continue making such idiotic puns, Ahasuerus? I have to restrain myself from ripping out your tongue whenever you do so," came a lazy, male, and aristocratic voice.

"Oh please, don't be so ghoulish about it, my friend. Can't a Wandering Man cursed by God to walk the Earth until the end of time just have a little fun with jokes and puns?" 'Ahasuerus' replied.

"Perhaps," Shirou admitted. "Anyway, as to the point of this meeting… I believe that it be most prudent that we accelerate this phase of our plans and launch our attack on the Black Faction."

That got the attention of everyone present. "Are you absolutely sure that would a wise course of action, Shirou?"

"I do. Caster has assured me that his Noble Phantasm has reached near completion and will be ready to mobilize within two days. As of now, despite our loss of Berserker, we have been afforded an element of surprise over the Black faction, as they will not be expecting us to go through with another attack after the loss of one of our Servants."

"But they will still have time to prepare for such an assault, will they not?"

"Perhaps."

"And what about the fact that they most likely know we are in possession of more than seven Servants?"

"That is also a good point, my friends. However, as it is now, they have no idea what to expect next. The iron is now freshly hot, and it would be most tragic if we did not take the opportunity to strike at it while the window is open."

His compatriots discoursed among themselves for a few moments, while he idly fingered his cane.

The third male voice then spoke up. "I suggest we put it to a vote. All in favor of going forward with this attack?"

Shirou and four others raised their hands in the air. Despite the result being clear, the man spoke again. "All those against the attack?"

The remaining two raised their hands. Then, the first female voice spoke again. "Very well."

Shirou felt her ageless eyes turn towards him. "Despite some reservations, we find that your suggestion has some merit, Shirou, and so the vote has been cast. In two days, we will attack the Black Faction."

Then, a fourth voice spoke up, this one sounding like a young girl. "Hey, that's all well and good, but I have just one teensy-weensy question. What about the Necromancer and his meanie Saber? Where will they fit in?"

Shirou's smile then gained a deadly edge to it at the mention of the pair. "Oh, I'm sure that God and circumstance will be sending those two back into our fold soon enough. I have just notified Chiron to keep an eye on our prodigal pair."

Ahasuerus then snickered. "So, we have them dead to rights then?"

The groans of annoyance in the chamber were much louder this time.

* * *

 _Forest of Trifas_

As he rushed through the Forest and back to the base, Saber could not keep his mind off what he had seen.

 _That Saber… was it possible?_

His skill with a blade, his familiarity with Lancelot, even when he was in the container of the Berserker.

If it was… then this War had just taken a very dark and twisted turn.

At that moment, Lancelot Du Lac felt more than a bit afraid.

* * *

 **A/N Thanks for all the positive reviews and readings, and apologies for the short chapter.**

 **Ctl0ver777: I am aware, but, like any good mother, she tries to make sure that she does not hurt her child, who is Caules at this point. Of course, she can't wholly restrain herself, which is why she keeps hugging him so tightly against her _assets_. Nevertheless, I tweaked the dialogue a bit to help. **

**See if you all can guess who Saber of Black is and then post your guesses in the reviews. There is no limit. In the next chapter, I will let you all know if anyone either guessed it, or came close.**

* * *

S1-E6

Race: 19th Generation Homunculi Soldier Drone

Gender: Male

Hair color: Brown.

Eye Color: Red

Height: 172 cm

Weight: 65 kg

Blood type: O

Circuit Quality: A+

Circuit Quantity: B+

Circuit Composition: Artificial.

* * *

 **Servant Stats**

Second Archer of Red (Alter): Atalante (Alter)

Master: Unknown

 **STATS**

STR: C++

END: C++

MAN: B

LCK: C

NP: B+

 **Class Skills**

Independent Action: A

Beastly Enhancement: B

Magic Resistance: D

 **Personal Skills**

Crossing Arcadia: A

Self Evolution: EX

Animalistic Logic: B

Aesthetics of the Last Spurt: C

 **Noble Phantasm**

Phoebus Catastrophe: B+

Tauropolos Skia Thermokrasia: A

Disputed Spoils of War: B

The Beast of Divine Punishment: B+

* * *

First Rider of Red: Achilles 

Master: Unknown

 **STATS**

STR: A+

END: A+

AGI: A++

MAN: C++

LCK: C

N.P.: A+

 **Class Skills**

Riding: A+

Magic Resistance: C

Indépendant Action: A (Taught by Chiron)

 **Personal Skills**

Battle Continuation: A

Bravery: A+

Affections of the Goddess: B

Divinity: C

 **Noble Phantasms**

Troias Tragōidia: A

Dromeus Komētēs: A+

Andreias Amarantos: B

Diatrekhōn Astēr Lonkhē: B+

Akhilleus Kosmos: A+

I panoplía tou Ifaístou: A. Functions much like Siegfried's Armor of Fafnir, though it also raises his parameters by one rank.

* * *

Saber of Red/ First Berserker of Red: Lancelot

Master(s): Unknown

 **STATS**

STR: A/A

END: A/A

AGI: A+/A+

MAN: B/C

LCK: B/B

N.P.: A++/A++

 **Class Skill**

(Mad Enhancement: C)

Riding: B

Magic Resistance: B/E

(Indépendant Action: B (Taught by Chiron))

 **Personal Skills**

Knight of the Lake: A

Eternal Arms Mastership: A

Protection of the Fairies: A

A Knight Does Not Die With Empty Hands: A++

 **Noble Phantasm**

Arondight: A++

For Someone's Glory: B

Arondight – Overload: A++

* * *

Third Archer of Red: Chiron (Alter)

Master: Shirou Kotomine Von Einzbern

 **STATS**

STR: B

END: A+

AGI: A++

MAN: B

LCK: C

NP: A

 **Class skills**

Independent Action: A

Magic Resistance: B

Divinity: C

 **Personal Skills**

Hero Creation and Hero Destruction: A. Chiron make anyone a hero or anti-hero, and he can also bypass the defenses of any Hero, even GodHand and Nemean Lion's pelt. It is twice as effective against heroes he personally had taught.

Clairvoyance: B+

Eye of the Mind (True): A

Consecration of Eternal Life: C

Wisdom of Divine Gift: A+

 **Noble Phantasm**

Antares Snipe: A


	5. Chapter 5

Sable and Scarlet Chapter 5

After the battle on the Road, the two saints had continued traversing into Romania. Finally, they had stopped at a nearby farm, where the owner, an elderly man named Serge.

In return for shelter, they helped out on the farm.

It was easy for them, having both lived on farms in their past life.

"What is the plan now, Lady Jeanne?" The Dragon Slayer asked, as the two shoveled and bound hale into bales.

"For now, we simply keep watch over both factions."

"That seems a wise course of action, as neither side seems particularly trustworthy at the present."

They then worked in silence for a bit.

"Has the Lord gifted you with any sort of Revelation, Lady Jeanne?"

"I am not sure. When ever I close my eyes... I see only battlefields burning."

* * *

 _… I remember…_

 _…I remember how it had been a bright and happy day. The king had returned! What an opportunity! A chance to lay eyes upon the King, and the knights of the Round Table!_

 _All, nobles and peasant alike, watched with cheer and adoring as these knights among knights rode upon noble and fine steed through the city. My siblings Agravain, Gareth, Gaheris and Gawain, Tristian the bard, Galahad, the great Lancelot du Lac, and even the mighty Sorceress herself, Merlin! Of course, all of these were outshined by the one at the head of this procession. The Wielder of Excalibur, the Lion of Camelot, the king of Knights himself, Arthur Pendragon!_

 _"Our king!" "Arthur Pendragon!" The promised king!" "Three cheers!"_

 _Through it all, the great king, a young man with short blonde hair and gleaming blue and silver armor and tabard, rode through. At times, he would give a small wave to the crowd, but, for the most part, his kingly face was impassive, almost sad even. I sometimes wondered why._

 _In one of the many alleyways, behind the crowd, I had watched from under my cloak as the king and his knights rode by. "That's him. That's Arthur, the King of Knights," I whispered to myself._

 _Behind me, I had felt my mother's presence as she gently put her hands on my shoulders. It was the gentlest that I could ever remember her touching me, when she touched actually touched me at all. "Yes," she whispered, in a voice that could make men go mad with desire, as she knelt by me. "That man is the hero you should aim to become… and the enemy that you must defeat."_

 _I remember thinking that such a thing was impossible, because the king was so stunning and perfect. That's why I decided to serve under his wing. At that moment, I swore to become his sword, and eliminate all who dared to oppose him and his noble ideals._

 _…. I remember how I had been so happy when I was made a Knight of The Round Table. It had been a near unanimous decision, despite my mother's reputation. Going on great adventures with my fellow knights, each of whom I counted as a friend, and my king. So many adventures; The Fisher King, the War against my mother and King Lot, the questing Beast, the Green knight… So many happy memories, and so many fun battles!_

 _…. I remember standing there, near the Table itself, as Gawain and Lancelot conferred with the king in whispers about how to deal with a baron who had declared himself in defiance of the king and had allied with the Saxons. An example had to be made. In my eagerness to prove my worth, I had been the first to volunteer. Sometimes, I wonder that, if I hadn't, how different things would have been._

 _With a battalion of knights, we attacked the traitorous Baron's castle. The battle had been short, and we emerged from it victorious, with the blood of the treacherous quencehing th thirst of our blades._

 _I had cut down soldier after soldier and had cornered the Baron himself against the walls of the fortress. For some reason, though, I had felt curious. "Answer me," I had asked the traitor. "Why did you choose to betray our king?"_

 _To the man's credit, despite knowing of my reputation and power, he had answered. "Why? It is because Arthur Pendragon is far too perfect."_

 _That was his reason for causing this bloodshed? "You fool." I raised my sword high, as an executioner would the headman's axe._

 _Steel flashed, and blood stained the burning walls._

 _I had looked upon the Baron's headless corpse, his blood staining my armor. "You stupid fool. Where is the sense in being dissatisfied with a perfect king?"_

 _That's right. The king was selfless. He only took what was necessary. Nothing extra remains. The king had no dreams… but he did not need them._

 _…. I remember how, despite myself, I still found that I could not shake from my mind the Baron's final words, and I would ruminate upon them until I would grow almost sick with confusion. It was during one such moment that my mother came to me._

 _"Mordred! Tell me, just how long do you intend to continue this childish game of playing knight?"_

 _"Mother?"_

 _"You are heir to the throne! So, stop living in your father's shadow! You are his child, his living essence! Go, and claim your rightful place as his heir!"_

 _I should have not listened to her, and ignored her words, but, instead, like the child I still was, I became entranced by what she was telling me. "W-what? You're saying that King Arthur… that the King of Knights is my father?"_

 _I had been so happy, so overjoyed, that I had to tell him right away! He and the queen had yet to birth and heir, so, would this not make him happy? Would he not be pleased to know that his son was one of his knights? Besides, he and the queen had yet to issue an heir. Would he not be happy in knowing that his bloodline was still secure?_

 _How naïve I had been… how foolish._

 _…. I remember how, later that day, as the sun had begun its descent into the East, I had told him this news. But his face held no joy at my announcement. Nor did it hold any disbelief, or sorrow, or anger. The king's face had been as impassive as a mountain, and his emerald eyes, like mine, had been as two chips of ice._

 _Then, in clear voice, he had told me that I would not be acknowledged, not by him, or anyone else, as his blood._

 _That had shocked me to my core. "You… you refuse to acknowledge me as your son?! Is that really your answer, oh King of Knights?!"_

 _Without a word, he had turned away. I was always looking upon his back. Once, the sight of it had filled me with contentment._

 _But now… now I had felt only rage! "I… I was content to remain in your shadow. But, in all that time, never, not even once, did you ever deign to turn around and look at me, to look me in my eyes, eyes so very much like your own! Why?! Why won't you acknowledge me, Arthur?!"_

 _Damn him! Damn Him!_

 _I remember clenching my fists so tightly that, even though they were covered by thick cloves, they had begun to bleed._ So be it then, _I had thought to myself._ I am going to destroy everything that you have built! Do you hear me? I will tear down all that you have created with my own hands! Arthur!

 _… I remember how, soon afterwards, things just… fell apart. Tristian's and Kay's departures… Galahad's death… Merlin's disappearance… Lancelot's torrid affair with the Queen, and their flight to France, during which the Knight of the Lake had slain Gaheris and Gareth and Agravain, my own siblings… and then the King's ill-fated expedition to Rome, during which, with half of the Round table behind me, I then made my claim for the throne! To my sorrow, my elder, and last, sibling, Gawain, had chosen to stand beside Arthur. I had no family left to stand beside me in my righteous rebellion. None, for my conniving mother had already departed from England following Merlin's vanishing, and the theft of Excalibur's sheath, Avalon._

 _…. I remember how I tore apart that shining Kingdom upon a Hill, brick by brick it seemed. I remember how I watched it burn, and I laughed and cried, and laughed with sick and happy joy among the ashes and blood, with Clarent in hand. I was the only heir to the throne! Only I could be king! None else!_

 _…. I remember how, at Camlann, the bodies of dead knights piled on each other, like gruesome hills of blood and flesh. Knights who had once fought and lived side by side as comrades now struggled to kill one another on this battlefield._

 _...I remember how, like a scythe separating the chaff from the wheat, Clarent cleaved a bloody path through all the loyalist bastards who dared stand in my way, though the worst part was that I remembered every single one of them, remembered laughing and drinking with them. Now, they could do naught but fall before me, in service to a king who just did not care. "Where?" I cried out, as I cut down another man, Sir Leon, I believed his name to be. I remembered dining at his home with his family once. "Where is King Arthur?! Show yourself to me, King of Knights!"_

 _Suddenly, a familiar face was before me, blocking my sword with an equally familiar one… Gawain!_

 _...I remember how I had pleaded with my last remaining sibling to stand aside, that he did not have to die for a king who had never once cared._

 _...I remember how he had spat in my face, damning me to hell, and, though, he put a great fight, his previous wounds that he had suffered from Arondight still made it easy enough for me to dispatch him with a lucky stab._

 _..I remembered cradling my dying brother in my arms, even as he at first cursed and spat blood upon me, but then began to weep, praying to God that, in another life, he would be given a second chance, and I remember how, right before the end, he did not look up at me with any anger, only sorrow._

 _...I remember still cradling my elder brother's corpse long after his last breath had passed from his lips, and how tears were streaming down my face. But, as I was still wearing my helmet, I could not wipe them away._

 _As the sun set, our armies kept fighting, and soldiers and knights kept dying. I remember starting to feel so weary in that moment, even with the enhancements placed upon me by my mother._

 _...I remember calmly setting down Gawain, arranging his body in a modicum of dignity, and closing his eyes, before wading back into the fray, his blood still covering my arms and armor. At some point, his name, and the name of my other siblings echoed like a battle cry from my lips. Their deaths were the fault of the king! Him, and his damned inhumanity, and his unsmiling face!_

 _...I remember wondering how much longer could I keep this this up? Where was the King of Knights?!_

 _...I remember how, as I paused to take a breath, I looked over Camlann… So many dead… bodies stacked like piles of cordwood… but it was his fault! Not mine!_

 _Fuck him and fuck all the so-called knights!_

 _Then, I finally saw him, the King. At first, he looked fresh, and still mighty, with Excalibur in hand, and the setting sun wreathing him like an angel's halo… but then, I saw that this was not the case. One of his eyes was scarred shut from a lucky sword strike, blood seemed to drip from almost a dozen wounds to pool at his feet, he seemed to be favoring one of his legs, and he was breathing heavily, like me. For some reason, I could not help but note how that scar made him look similar to his adoptive brother, Kay._

 _Despite all that, however, the King still seemed to stand firm and tall, and he still had that same damned, impassive look on his face as he looked at me, like a magistrate, about to render judgment._

 _How dare he! How dare he look at me like that!_

 _I looked him straight in his one remaining eye, opened wide my arms, and laughed. I could not help myself, but, by God, I laughed. "Hahaha! How's this? Do you see, King Arthur? No matter what happens, here is where your great kingdom will end! Look upon its ruins, and see my revenge, my vengeance for not relinquishing your crown and throne to me! Look at what your folly has cost!"_

 _…. Why had I said those things?_

 _His only response was to take his mighty sword in both hands._

 _"Do you hate me,_ father _?! Do you detest me from the bottom of your cold heart that much?! Does my existence truly offend you that much?!"_

 _He had remained silent. Why was I not attacking him? "Is it because I am the child of an evil witch, your own sister, and thus the product of unholy incest?"_

 _Even amidst the clamor of battle, the king's silence had been nothing less than deafening to my ears. With my rage growing ever deeper, I took up Clarent in both hands, and rushed up the hill towards him. "Answer me, King Arthur! Answer me, you fucking bastard!"_

 _Even when I had still served him loyally, we had never actually cross swords, not even in the sparring yard. But I had seen how great a swordsman the King was, when we had fought side by side._

 _I do not know what I had been expecting when Clarent had clashed against Excalibur's still shining blade. I certainly had not expected the Sword of Promised Victory to go flying out of the King's hands at my blow. How long had he been fighting? How tired had he been, at that moment?_

 _In shock, we both had flown back, while Excalibur landed some distance away._

 _As we both panted from exhaustion and shock, the king had straightened his back, and looked me dead in the eye. Then, to my shock, for what seemed like the first time in my entire life, though it was not true, of course, the King of Knights spoke directly to me. "No, Mordred. Never, not even once in my life, have I ever hated you, or ever considered you to be repugnant."_

 _… What?_

 _As he spoke, he had reached next to him, and, in a flash of bright light, the holy lance Rhongomyniad appeared. He then leveled it and pointed its spiral tip directly at my heart. "Do you want to know the reason that I did not relinquish my crown and throne to you?"_

 _Despite keeping my guard, I had never seen a human being, even one like him, move so fast! The next think I knew, the holy spear had been buried deep in my chest._

 _The pain! So much pain! Why did it hurt so much?_

 _The king's face was still as immovable as stone, though he had just killed me, his only child, his flesh and blood, and he gazed upon me with his one good eye. "It was because you did not once ever demonstrate the capacity to be king."_

 _Without another word, he shoved the lance in deeper, and my armor fell to pieces._

 _I remember how, more through muscle memory than anything else, I had still managed to rake and slash Clarent's edge down across the King's right side, cutting through his enchanted armor like wet paper._

 _He had not even flinched._

 _As I slid off the holy lance, and lay upon the ground, I watched as the King still stood tall, against the dying of the light, as night spread its wings upon this battlefield, even as blood dripped from his unsmiling mouth and wounds. As he had killed me, so had I just killed him._

 _Rhongomyniad dropped to the ground with a clang._

 _…I remember, as he once again turned his back on me, like he had always done, and how, as my vision grew cloudy with darkness, I had reached out a shaking hand. Could he not even spare a single glance for his own child?_

 _Wait, why was he holding his face?_

 _Why was it getting so cold?_

 _"F…father…"_

 _Damn him. Damn mother. Damn Him!_

 _DAMN THEM ALL!_

 _…I remember…_

* * *

Kairi liked to think of himself as a man who could roll with whatever life threw at him. He had survived warzones, back stabbings (literal and figurative), and had even come face to face with a plethora of terrifying and dangerous people, places, and things (That damn forest still gave him nightmares sometimes…)

Right now, though, he was not sure how he could take the scene before him. It was awful, stomach, churning, and somewhat grotesque.

Also, his wallet was almost crying at this point.

"Geez, would it kill you slow down even just a bit? Watching you eat is giving me indigestion."

"Ah, screw you, Master. I'm fuckin' hungry!" she replied, around a large mouthful of sausage, cucumber, potato hash browns, eggs, and bacon.

After incessant whining and complaining from the childish Saber, Kairi had finally relented and booked for them a cheap hotel room in the city.

He had made double sure that their room had double beds.

Of course, their first night out of the grave yard, and he just had to have a weird dream about her and her weird relationship with her father. Now, she was literally eating his wallet bone dry.

"So then, what's the plan, Kairi?" she asked around another mouthful.

He had stressed that she was not to call him Master when in public. It was just creepy.

He shrugged. "Not entirely sure. The last message from Shirou was that we just remain low, which was why I was strongly against coming into the city."

"Again, screw you! If I spend one more day in that fucking cemetery, then I am going to go on a one-man rampage. People, _normal_ people, need beds, and food that has not spent half its life in a can."

"Whatever."

Though she glared at him, she said nothing, and simply jammed another massive chunk of food in her mouth.

On the café's TV, a news reporter reviewed the story of the day. Nearby, a few masked soldiers patrolled the city. Kairi took note of that, and the directions in which they travelled.

 _"_ _La începutul dimineții, regele Darnic al IV-lea a emis o declarație că va avea loc o campanie obligatorie, la nivel național, pentru săptămâna viitoare, începând cu ora zece. Cei care nu acceptă să respecte ora de gardă vor fi acuzați de serviciu comunitar obligatoriu, precum și de amendă. În altă ordine de idei, Guradul Național tocmai a dezlănțuit o altă celulă teroristă nazistă..." (Earlier this morning, King Darnic IV issued forth a proclamation that there would be a mandatory, nation-wide cufrew for the next week, beginning at Ten PM. Those who neglect to observe the curfew will be charged with mandatory community service, as well as a fine. In other news, the National Gurad has just flushed out another Nazi terrorist cell...)_

The newscast did not pass by Kairi's attention. ' _A curfew huh? Guess they've decided to start tightening the noose a bit. Damn it. Do they know we're here?_

 _Well, one thing's for sure, things are going to get a bit more interesting.'_

With a sigh, Kairi motioned for the waitress to bring the check, and then stood up.

It was time to do some sightseeing….

* * *

As evening fell, Kairi walked through the city park to find Saber seated at one of the benches, stuffing her face with what seemed to be papanasi, a local delicacy that were basically cheese donuts. As he walked, he noted the people retreating to their homes.

As Mordred continued to stuff herself, he remembered that they just had dinner half an hour ago. Was there a black hole where her stomach was meant to be?

He approached her, and saw the frown on her face, which in turn made him chuckle. "Well, someone's in a bad mood. What's wrong?"

She paused in her gorging on the pastries. "What's wrong is that I was hoping we could go sight-seeing, do something fun! But this boring town has no high-rises, no amusement parks, and instead, there is absolutely nothing, except for boring architecture! Besides, you then left me on my own for hours on end today."

She then gestured about wildly with her free hand. "Look around, Master. Are you absolutely sure that it's been more than a thousand years since my time, because from where I'm sitting, it sure doesn't look like it! I mean, for pity's sake, they still have a king!"

Kairi shrugged in response. "Well, from what I know, this town ins quite well known for preserving its architecture from the middle ages. As for a king? It's not unusual. Russia and Germany still have ruling Royal Families."

He then took a closer look at the bag of papanasi. Hadn't it been full a few minutes ago? "Geez, you sure eat a lot. Where does all of it go? Some sort of alternate dimension or bottomless pit?"

In response, he got a glare for his troubles. "For your information, eating just happens to be a hobby of mine, okay? It also happens to help keep me in shape."

…Okay. That was new.

Following that declaration, she shoved her last papansi into her mouth, crushed the paper bag in her hands, and then looked him square in the eye. "However, a hobby is still just a hobby. It's not going to help to keep me calm when there's still fighting to be done."

She then stood up. "Besides, what the hell have you been doing all this time?"

"Scouting out the town. Taking note of the patrol routes of all the soldiers."

"Why?"

"It's safe to assume that the Black Faction know we are here. So, they are probably trying to tighten the noose."

Mordred's expression then turned serious. "So, then, what's the plan?"

"First chance we get, we head back to the cemetery, and then move on. I'm thinking the forest…"

That only got him another groan.

* * *

 _Later that night_

While Saber lounged on the bed grumbling to herself, Kairi busied himself with taking stock of all his ammunition and weaponry, including a few of the guns that he had pilfered off of the homunculi in Trifas.

It was some high-quality stuff. Though, he had deigned not to take any of the heavier equipment, and had only taken some of the pistols. Aside from his shotgun, Kairi always preferred to go light.

Four magi heart grenades, two belts of normal grenades, the bone dagger, six Walther P99s with 4 clips each (480 rounds), his own handgun, the sawed-off shotgun with its finger ammo (13 shells), a monkey's paw, a solid block of C4, and a gas mask, while the rest of his things and ingredients and components were back at the cemetery.

Well, he had made do with less before.

The Present Mountain Incident came to mind…

Then Berserker perked up, and her armor materialized about her.

"What is it?"

"Something's not right. Stay here master." She went into the hallway as she vanished into spirit form.

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

Mordred slipped out of the hotel, the comforting weight of his armor settling about him like a warm carapace.

It was a slightly warm night, as Clarent's worn handle slipped into his hand.

It was only thanks to his instinct skill that he managed to slice the giant arrow in twain as it sped towards him.

Archer!

Another massive arrow was barely blocked.

With a growl, Mordred sped off in a burst of red lightning.

* * *

From the top of the tower, Heracles lowered his bow. "The Saber has taken the bait, Master."

"Good, then I will go after Kairi Sisigou as per the plan. The homunculi will be sent in first. Can you handle Berserker?"

"Most assuredly."

The hero of Greece watched as the Saber of Red traced the path of his arrows to the bell tower.

With a growl of anger, the Armored Servant of the Sword headed straight towards the Servant of the Bow's apparent position.

He fired another shaft, which, since she knew it was coming this time, the Saber managed to deflect and destroy. Her strength was admirable. "Please, Master," he said as he fired another arrow. "Try not to push yourself too hard. Be safe."

"Don't worry, I won't." At that, her mystic code unfurled itself, and sent her leaping off the roof towards the street below, and towards the location of Saber of Red's master, while a small contingent of camouflaged homunculi soldiers entered the hotel where he was residing.

With that, it was Heracles' turn to descend.

As he leapt off the top of the tower, a smile etched itself into his face. This was going to be fun!

* * *

Bloodlust filled Mordred's mind as he sped towards the bell tower. He was going to find that fucking archer, and then he was going to kill him, _hard_.

The next thing Mordred knew, _something_ that seemed a mix between a boulder and a 'train,' (whatever that was) slammed into him with all the force of an avalanche.

When his eyes refocused, and he managed to stop tumbling around, Mordred saw that thing that hit him was a giant made of muscles and stone, it seemed.

This was Archer of Black!?

The giant looked at Mordred with humor in his gold eyes. "I am surprised that you are till standing. It seems that you are sturdier than expected. Quite impressive, Saber."

The brute then settled into a stance. "But I am afraid that it will not do you much good."

In response, Mordred screamed in anger, and dashed forward, Clarent raised high, and ready to cut.

All the giant did was block the sword with his arm. To Mordred's shock, the tarnished blade did not even penetrate the Archer's skin.

Then, the Archer slammed an open palm into Mordred's chest.

Once again, the Saber tumbled to the ground, and collided with an adjacent building, as well as demolishing a good portion of the street.

The Archer sighed as he readied another stance. "It seems that this fight will be brief. Disappointing.

This fucking bastard! Red lightning sheathed the entirety of Mordred's form, as he shot to his feet.

Then, two arrows slammed into the Archer's chest, and it was his turn to go stumbling back. "What!?"

What the hell? Where had those come from?

Then, a voice cut through the night. "Go to your Master, Saber. I shall handle Heracles."

Mordred turned, and saw… a centaur with a bow materialize. How had no one sensed him? Did he have Presence Concealment? "Heracles!? Also, who the fuck are you!?"

"A fellow Servant of Red, now go!"

Despite wanting to argue, Mordred decided that he needed to get to Kairi, and so sped off.

* * *

Kairi had never been one for just waiting around. It made him antsy. He had to be in motion.

Something was very wrong.

 _Master! Get out of there. It's a fucking trap! I'm fighting the Archer! Run!_

He quickly gathered up all the weaponry on the bed into his specially-made long coat, cast Reinforcement on himself, and then quietly slipped towards the door, reinforcement strengthening his ears and limbs past their natural limits.

The ever so subtle creak of a boot tipped him off, and he then rapidly fired one of the service pistols through the wall and door six times each (468 rounds left), and then rammed his way through the door.

The moment he dived out into the hallway, he rolled leapt up, and shot one of the homunculi soldiers in the chest, twice, crushed the throat of another one with a single blow, and then sped down towards the edge of the corridor. As he did, the bullets then began to rapidly fly towards and past him.

As he crouched behind the wall while returning fire every so often (now 460 rounds left), he withdrew another heart grenade, put on the gasmask. He then rolled it into the hallway.

As the poison gas then filled the hallway with a small bang, the bullets ceased.

Three left.

One minute ticked by, then two, and then three, and then four.

Finally, Kairi slowly poked his head out from around the hallway wall.

The bullet nearly sheared his head clean off, and he quickly ducked back as the steady fire resumed. There was very little of the adjacent wall by now.

Damn it! The poison wasn't working. Were these bastards immune now?

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw some of them began to edge closer, using some of the other doors as cover. With Mordred still occupied with the other Servant, he was going to die, it seemed.

Well, that just meant that is was time for plan B.

He withdrew from the pack at his side a large block of C4, a second heart grenade, and a small belt of grenades of the normal variety.

Slowly, after attaching and priming the C4 in between returning bursts of fire (440 rounds left), he wrapped the normal grenades around the block, and threw in the second heart grenade, flooding more poison into the hotel.

Two hearts left.

The moment everything was set, he then dashed away as quickly as he could, while still firing the rounds (420). As he expected, he could hear the homunculi moving to give chase.

Thumbing the switch to the C4 in his hand, Kairi pressed the red button as he dove out the window.

Fun fact that few people knew; when hydra venom was converted to gas, it became highly flammable.

The force from the blast then sent him careening further into the street.

The air was soon filled with the smell of charred flesh and building materials.

Breathing a sound of relief as he lay upon the ground while the hotel was on fire, Kairi lit up a cigarette to calm his nerves. With a nervous laugh, he inhaled, and then blew out the smoke.

So much for keeping things quiet.

Shit.

Of course, then, at that moment, the universe decided that it needed to shove another large and obscene gesture right into Kairi's stubbled, and now rather dusty and ash covered face.

He heard the whirring of machinery and gears and he then slowly rose and watched in wary fascination as a young girl with twisted legs and long brown hair that framed her delicate face was pulled into view by the four very large and long metallic limbs coming out of her back that kept her suspended off the ground, and between two buildings.

The sight actually reminded him a bit of one of the super villains from the comic books he used to read as a kid.

Good days, good times.

The smile on the girl's face would have been a kind thing in any other circumstance, but here, it was a clear declaration; _surrender and run, or fight and die._

Trying to act as nonchalant as possible, Kairi took one final inhalation of smoke, flicked away his wasted cancer stick, and then looked up and gave the magus a cocky grin.

"So, the Crown Princess of Romania herself, huh? I feel a bit honored. Didn't know that I warranted such royal attention."

"As you should be, but I thank you for your cordiality," she replied. "Seeing as how you already know my name, Kairi Sisigou, then it is very likely that you already know of my abilities." Her smile than grew until her eyes closed. "However, you don't mind if I give you a warning first, do you?"

It was if they were two old friends discussing the weather, which to Kairi's mind, made it a bit more frightening and twisted.

He smirked. "Sure, why not?"

No sense in not being polite about it, right? This was bona fide royalty he was talking to.

The smile then dropped off the girl's face. "Very well. I suggest that you leave now! You and your Servant have no right to be here. This town, as well as this nation, rests under the domain of Yggdmillennia's rule. If you and your servant were to leave now, then I will call off Archer, and overlook your trespass. However, if you decide to ignore this generous warning, then I can only hope that you are prepared to atone for your insolence with your life!"

He could not help himself, but Kairi actually chuckled. Got to admire her guts, this kid. "Nice speech, but you don't expect me to actually listen to you, right?"

She smiled again. However, it did not escape his notice that the soldiers with her were beginning to spread out. "But of course not, Mr. Necromancer. However, by making that sort of declaration, then I am easily able to strengthen and fortify my resolve to go through with your execution, since you are now an enemy of the state."

"Is that so?"

As they spoke, Kairi whispered a silent word under his breath. Then, from out of nowhere, a gust of wind picked up, and blew a loose poster from a wall across Fiore Yggmillennia's face.

It was only for a split second, but that was all he needed to send a blast of finger bullets barreling towards her from his gun!

Eleven shells left.

Luckily for her, her mystic code, the machine on her back, was faster, and it dropped her well under the blast.

Unluckily, with these not being ordinary bullets, they then changed direction mid-air and sped down after her. Oddly, she did not seem perturbed by this.

"Jupiter," she said. "Intercept!"

As she continued her descent, one of the mechanical arms, the lower right, swatted the bullets away like flies with a swatter.

Crap!

The moment she landed, she looked straight at him. "Now, Mars. Open fire."

Crap, crap crap!

As the upper right let loose a barrage of bullet-like energy, Kairi dashed and scrambled behind a nearby car for cover.

As the blast continued to slowly rock and tear apart the vehicle, Kairi fumbled for more ammunition.

"Damn it. That's just great! That Doc Ock arm thing really does it all, huh?!"

He then barely managed to scuttle left to right as more blasts peppered around his feet. Smart girl.

"So that's the Bronze-Link Manipulator, huh? Damn thing's a lot more annoying than the Clock Tower files described."

He then reached into his jacket and withdrew his second-to-last heart grenade. "In that case…"

With his teeth, he withdrew the pin and set it beside him, as the mage circuits in his hand glowed a soft turquoise. " _Now, oh wind_ …"

From his hand came a small gust of air, making the grenade roll right beside Friore Yggdmillennia.

At the last minute, she noticed the explosion, and a look of fear cross her face. "Saturn! Crush it."

The limb smashed the thing into a small puddle of blood, just in time!

Too bad for her, that had only been a distraction.

The next thing she knew, the car, with Kairi in the driver's seat, was barreling towards her!

Luckily for him the keys were still in the ignition.

Before she could react, the vehicle had hit her in the lower metal legs. "How could someone be so reckless?!" she screamed, before landing, face first, flat against the window shield.

With a determined grimace, Kairi made the sharpest turn her could, so sharp it was a wonder that the steering wheel did not break of in his hands. The car spun a few times, and then Fiore was sent flying off, too fast for her metal limbs to get a grip, and so she was sent tumbling to the ground in a heap.

As she lifted her head, she was greeted with the sight of Kairi, leaning out the driver's window, with his loaded shotgun aimed right at her.

Shame, he kind of felt bad doing this. But, this was called 'War' for a reason. "End of the line, kid."

He pulled the trigger, and the enchanted finger bones raced towards her.

Nine shells left.

She could not dodge or block in time. He had won.

At least, that was what he thought, since, all of a sudden, a black thing in the vague shape of a dog suddenly jumped in front of her and intercepted the bullets with a small explosion.

"What?" Kairi then looked about.

Standing next to Fiore Ygddmillennia, panting as if he had just run a marathon, was a boy in his early to mid-teens with glasses, and dressed in a similar manner as her. His glowing hand was outstretched, which meant that he was the one who had summoned the spirit.

Yep, this night was definitely getting out of hand.

"Sister," the boy cried out. "Snap out of it!"

"R-right!" A moment later, a fresh barrage of energy blasts came sailing towards Kairi.

Luckily, he managed to crawl out the opposite door, and crouch behind it as it slowly became shredded by the bombardment.

The boy had called her 'sister.' If Kairi remembered correctly, then that meant that he was Prince Caules Yggdmillennia.

Damn it! Having the pair of them here was really problematic! "Hey, boy!" he cried out. "What happened to a proper introduction? Come and fight me fair and square, like a true mage would!"

"Go screw yourself, you muscle-headed idiot! I'm not so insecure about myself that I have to go pounding my chest at anyone I see like a stupid gorilla!"

Well since that didn't work, it seemed like he was going to have to use his trump card.

As his cover continued to be demolished, Kairi took out the bone dagger…

Then, the sound of another car speeding towards them filled the air, along with the sound of the fire zooming through the air.

In a panic, the princess grabbed her brother, and they sped off back in to the alleyway, just before the fire hit.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the now confused Kairi, and the back-passenger door slammed open, revealing a slightly confused Mordred. The driver and front passenger seat were filled.

"Get in!" The driver exclaimed, in a tone the booked no arguments.

* * *

With a sigh, the Hero of Greece looked up to greet his new attacker as he yanked out the arrows in his chest, with the wounds swiftly closing.

"I had hoped against hope that my instincts were wrong, and it would not be you from the previous night. But I would be a fool to deny the proof that is now before me… Master Cheiron."

The legendary centaur, who looked a bit different then how Heracles remembered him as a child, gave a cruel sneer. It was an expression that Heracles had never before seen upon his teacher's face.

It was a rather disquieting thing to see.

"You always tried to second-guess yourself as a child, Heracles, and never wholly trusted your instincts. It tended to get more than a bit pathetic after a while. I see that has not changed."

"What has happened to you? You tried to kill my Master, and not just tonight. That is not a line I remember you ever being willing to cross. She's just a child."

The legendary centaur scoffed. "This is war, Heracles. Stop being so naïve. As for what has happened to me? I have been… elevated. My mind and morals have been expanded to new and dizzying heights. Besides, killing her was the best way to get rid of you. It was, and still is, the most optimal route to victory, since you are, without a doubt, one of the more dangerous fighters in this War. Also, you're not one to talk about killing children. Which among us went mad again and slaughtered his entire family?"

Heracles' eyes widened in horror at his teacher's words. "You're not him. You may wear his face and form, but you are not my old teacher."

In lieu of more words, the centaur simply smirked again, and sped forth.

Heracles was the greatest hero of Greece. He had braved perils that would have killed a normal man a thousand times over. He was skilled in every known form of combat and had even invented a fighting style that was still used to this very day.

But his opponent was the man who had taught him all that he ever knew.

Heracles went low and let loose a haymaker while keeping his other arm up and close to his chest as he dashed toward Chiron.

The next thing he knew, Chiron had somehow blocked his blow with one arm, and then, after a hoof to the knee, threw Heracles over his shoulder and sent him careening into a nearby house, though he managed to tumble to his feet.

Chiron had already unleashed several jabs to his chest, followed by a leaping hoof-smash to the face, which he barely managed to parry, before responding with an axe blow to Chiron's side.

He did not remember the centaur ever being so fast before.

A knee blow was intercepted, and rapid punches were either tanked or blocked.

After they parted, Heracles felt blood begin to drip down his forehead. He also felt sore from all the blows. That was a feeling he had not experienced in a long time.

Chiron chuckled at his former student's discomfort. "I like to think of this as retribution for poisoning me, Heracles, and, honestly, it feels great."

Heracles simply raised his slightly shaking hands for another bout, even as he bled from several of his teacher's blows.

Chiron smirked again, and then backed up. "Impressive, Heracles. You were always rather resilient. But, don't worry, I am not going to kill you here. I did promise my other student that he would be the one to truly fight you. He was long after you left my tutelage, but he was always such a great fan of your legend. I think you're going to like him. I look forward to seeing which one of you survives the coming battle."

With a final smirk, Chiron vanished into motes of black sparks.

* * *

The car and it's four occupants sped out of the city at a break-neck pace.

For a long moment, nobody said anything, and the only sounds were the thump of the wheels against the road, and the whirring of the engine.

Then, after a sudden and jarring screech to a halt, the driver turned to look at the pair. He was a strange looking person, in that he seemed utterly… ordinary. He was so ordinary that it looked strange. His weathered face was friendly, but his eyes… to describe them as ancient would have been an understatement.

"Listen, now I'm going to be frank; We get it, this whole 'grr, we work alone, we're lone, broody wolves' deal you two have going on. It's hip, it's cool, it's what's 'in.' As such, we have tolerated your little act for the past few days, my dear little friends. But now, _now,_ we are going to need you to buck up, and join us. We are going to need all hands-on deck for what is to come next."

"Why?"

"Because, in little over a day, we, the Red Faction (which, last I checked, includes you two loners), are going to be attacking the Black Faction, and we would all _really_ appreciate it if you two would be there."

They were silent for a long moment. "Look, we get where you're coming from, but, like you said, we just prefer to work on our own. We just don't really do big teams."

The person in the passenger seat then turned to look at them as well. It was another man, more well-groomed, and more aristocratic-looking than the other. Oddly enough, there was a large grasshopper perched on his shoulder. His eyes were just as ancient-looking as the drivers.

"Please, monsieur Sisigou," he said, in a posh French accent. "All we ask is that you strongly consider our offer. You two were almost killed tonight, because you decided not to take the safety in numbers that was offered to you so generously. We are offering it to you again, but, after tonight, there can be no third chances."

As he spoke, a Servant, a centaur to be exact, materialized beside them, and knocked once on the window, a smirk on his face.

Kairi noticed how Mordred slightly flinched at the sight of the equine Servant.

The Necromancer then sighed. The threat was pretty clear. "Fine, we'll think about it."

The man with the grasshopper on his shoulder shrugged, and the driver then clicked the unlock button on his door. "Well, I suppose that is better than nothing. We hope to see you all in Trifas. My advice would be to stay out of the cities. You will find the automobile by the road to full of everything you will need. Ta-ta!"

As the centaur vanished back into motes of black light, Kairi and Mordred exited the car, and it then sped off into the night.

* * *

At the designated spot, where a hidden van waited, along with a few homunculi servants and soldiers, Fiore and Caules alit onto the ground.

A moment later, Caules found himself being roughly dropped onto the pavement. Ouch.

As he rubbed at his back in slight pain, his sister spoke. "Caules."

He looked up at her. Despite being her caretaker for most of his life, Fiore was still his elder sister. As such, when she spoke in such a tone, he knew better than to argue. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Uh… Grandfather sent me to make sure you were okay."

"Why? Why would he order such a thing? Did he not trust me?"

"You are the Crown-Princess, and his heir. If you were to die, then the country would fall into disarray. Besides, I'm the one who's supposed to protect you and provide you with backup. Kairi Sisigou is a dangerous man.

"What you did was nothing short of irresponsible! Even if you were ordered to do so, you still just rushed in blindly!"

Oh boy. Now she was mad at him! "Do you not understand what it means to be a Master in this War, Caules? You did not even bring Berserker with you."

At that, he bowed his head in shame. "Caules… Grandfather Darnic chose to step in and lead Yggdmillennia to victory in this War. As Masters, it is our solemn obligation to help and support him in achieving that goal, for the good of our family, and the good of Romania."

She was right. He had acted without thinking. "But still…"

At that, he raised his head, and saw that the anger had dissipated from her voice, though she had turned away from him. "Were it not for you and your actions this night, I would not be alive! So, for that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Fiore…"

"Come on, let's go."

With a small smile, Caules picked himself up, while the homunculi maids helped Fiore into her wheelchair.

* * *

They watched the car speed off, as they just stood there, in the middle of the road.

Damn, Kairi needed a smoke.

Unfortunately, he realized, as he rummaged through his long coat, that he did not have any of his favorite brand on hand, so he had to settle for another, recommended by, and bought at an exorbitant price from, a certain dollmaker that he had had a few "run-ins" with in the past.

As he inhaled his first lungful, he immediately regretted it. "Damn, she wasn't kidding. This brand is just terrible!"

A second later, he shrugged and inhaled another mouthful.

Maybe he had a bit of a problem…

What a fucking night.

As he continued to abuse his lungs, the Necromancer looked up to see Saber, back in her casual clothes walking towards him from the road. The expression on her face was not one of triumph, but instead one of anger, embarrassment, and slight disgust.

He gave her a cheeky grin and a wave as she approached him and the two then proceeded to lean against their new car in silence.

"So, tonight was certainly eventful, huh?"

She stopped right next to him and cross her arms in a sulk. "Uh-huh."

"Well, I guess that means our first real battle in this War is a draw. But, at the very least, now we both got a pretty good taste of this Holy Grail War tonight."

That seemed to set Mordred off. "Don't you dare speak for me!" she screamed.

"Why not? The look on your face was rather obvious. Besides, regardless of who we decided on, it's rather pointless to chase anyone now."

As he spoke, Kairi flicked away his cancer-stick, and then proceeded to inspect their new-gifted vehicle. Oh well. "Anyway, it's not like we won't get more chances to take them down soon." He peered through the window of the driver's side.

Yep, this would do rather nicely.

"After all, everyone's all heading to Trifas now, aren't they?!" SMASH!

With a slam of his elbow, the window was shattered, and he unlocked the car, and began to hotwire it, as it seemed their two strange saviors had neglected to give either of them a key to the car.

Saber watched him with a completely dumfounded look on her face. "Come on," Kairi said. "Hop in! We're going back!"

Saber let out a sigh of resignation. "Man, I really hope that we don't have to end up missing and dropping out of this Grail War because of you getting us both either arrested or shot, Master." Despite what she just said, there was confident grin on her face.

Kairi turned to look at her, with his big scars, square chin covered with a five o'clock shadow, dark sunglasses, biker clothes, and a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and chuckled. "What, with this innocent face?"

They both shared a laugh at that.

Then, for some reason, Mordred's pale face turned serious. "Oh, by the way, I found out the identity of Archer of Black."

"Oh?"

"Yeah… it's fucking Heracles."

Really? Damn, that was interesting.

"Yeah, but that wasn't the bad part?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the bad part was that centaur guy damn near kicked Heracles' ass."

* * *

 **A/N: read, review, and enjoy. Sorry for the long wait.**


	6. Chapter 6

_Sable and Scarlet Chapter 6_

 _Rage._

 _Pain._

 _Wrath._

 _That was all there was, save for brief flashes of… other things._

 _The King he betrayed._

 _The queen he loved._

 _It had all been wrong._

You know what you have done.

 _They should not have done it._

Was it really so wrong?

You only acted out of love, and devotion.

You saved her.

 _I damned her._

 _I deserve no forgiveness_

* * *

Saber of Black chuckled as he watched the fallen Knight of the Lake writhe and scream in agony and pain and sorrow. "Music to my ears, when I get to hear one of _his_ knights scream like that."

The moment that the Berserker of Red had been restrained, Darnic and the other had immediately set to work.

That had been over two hours ago, as the combination of magecraft, runecraft, and alchemy slowly broke through the many layers of rage and madness chained upon the Berserker's mind and Saint Graph.

Sweat was dripping from the brows of Ophelia and Gordes as they continued their runecraft and alchemy. Avicebron's and Paracelsus' hands flashed rapidly through the air, as they enacted magecraft that had not been seen or heard in hundreds, of years.

Meanwhile, Darnic kept his hand outstretched. "You cannot resist, Lancelot of the Lake. There is no reason to. Such pain that you are suffering, such self-hatred and loathing. Do you want forgiveness?"

The Berserker kept thrashing about, making the homunculi soldiers keep their weapons steady.

"Accept my contract, Knight of the Lake, and your pain will vanish. Join the Black Faction, and you will attain that which lies in your heart. Become my Servant, and you will gain that what you most desire."

From under the King of Romania's jacket, a dull red light began to glow and pulse in tandem with his five command seals.

"Do not resist me. There is not point."

The two Caster's chanting grew louder.

Suddenly, the Berserker's erratic movements ceased, and it seemed as if all of the castle could hear the Servant of Madness' ragged exhalation.

Three new command seals added themselves to the tree design on his hand.

The moment he and Paracelsus were out of view, Darnic nearly collapsed.

* * *

 _There is no point._

 _I shall serve_

 _t\Then, I shall die, upon **His** blade..._

* * *

Paracelsus helped Darnic remove his coat and shirt, after getting him to his study.

Over Darnic's heart was a fist-sized, pulsating mass of crystal, as red as blood, surrounded by near microscopic lines thaumaturgic text and circles, which spread all over Darnic's torso. Unlike normal crystal, however, this stone was actually _beating_ , like an actual heart, and in tandem with the various alchemical symbols and his command seals.

Paracelsus uttered a few words, and the pulsating lessoned. Darnic breathed out a shaky sigh of relief.

"You are being foolish, Darnic. You are expending too much prana, even before you forced a contract onto the mad Berserker."

"I am aware, Paracelsus. Do not treat me like a simpleton. I am also aware that the others are being burnt through too quickly over the past few years. More importantly, how long until my new body is ready?"

"I am not surprised. The crystal has evolved quickly over the decades. That, pulse the burden of holding now three servants, even with the homunculi system, are no doubt a massive strain on your body and stamina. However, we are very much in luck. Avicebron has alerted me that it has just been completed."

"Is it ready for the transference process?"

"Yes, and Aivcebron is standing by to help."

Darnic's smile was a disconcerting thing to behold, like a snake that had just caught a particularly succulent rodent. "Good. Then, let us waste no more time…"

* * *

It was nothing less than a tragedy, to the residents of Trifas.

All had been awaken most suddenly in the previous night by a massive explosion.

They were still working through the rubble come morning, despite the fact that they were disobeying the King's order of the curfew.

So many dead.

Then, the sound of an approaching motorcade cut through the sorrowful air.

A squad of armed guards were the first to exit the vehicles, and then….

This was the first time that Romania had seen its masked king in public, since his strange and sudden collapse a few years back. All present immediately dropped to their knees in deference.

The masked and enshrouded king bade them all to rise as he approached the rubble.

Continents away, the Romanian forces engaged with those who would still wish to usher in the return of fascism and religious theocracy. The Middle east, Argentina, and many more. Many terrorists and tyrants had soon begun to fear the sight of the masked soldiers of the Golden Tree.

In their command centers, the various commanders of these Romanian forces tuned in to listen to their sovereign, while broadcasting it to those soldiers who were not engaged in combat at the moment.

In Germany, Kaiser Rommel II and his Court, alongside the Romanovs of the Russian Empire, watch as their fellow monarch addressed the world.

 _"This was the work of a demented terrorist, who my intelligence network believes to have Iron Cross ties and Nazi sympathies. His name is Kairi Sisigou, and his goals are nothing short of chaos, death, and destruction. Last night's deaths only confirm that._

 _"This was the work of a madman, a coward, who holds a grudge against the people of Romania for malicious reasons unknown._

 _"However, I promise you, my subjects, that he, and those who assist him, will be found, and made to face judgment for their crimes against this great nation of ours. I swear that the souls of those who died here tonight will have their justice. As the King of Romania, I can do no less._

As he spoke, the people of Romania could feel hope swelling within their souls. Their king had made a promise, and he would keep them safe.

Just as his family had done for the past seventy years, since the fall and expulsion of the fascists from their homeland.

Glory to the house of Yggdmillennia.

* * *

From within the forest, Kairi and Saber listened to the news broadcast on a small portable radio.

As one, they said the same thing. "Shit."

 _"Currently, he is accompanied by a short woman with blonde hair and…_

In the next breath, Saber suddenly smashed it to pieces, and then stomped on the remains, over and over and over.

Kairi wisely remained silent, and just let the Servant rage for a bit.

Once she had pounded the machinery to dust, she let out a long breath, and then looked at him. "So, what now, Kairi?"

"I guess all we can do is..." he was interrupted by the sound of his skeletal communication device whirring to life.

* * *

Shirou rose from the bench upon which he had been resting, and gazed upon the command seals, shining through his glove.

It was time.

The others would be in the throne room momentarily.

"Are you ready, dearie?" Baba Yaga asked him.

Shirou smiled through his mask. "I do believe that we are, Baba Yaga."

"Then let us not keep everyone waiting, dearie. Terrible form and all that."

* * *

The room as gargantuan, and opulent from the fact that it was all of solid gold, were the sun to shine directly into it, a person of ordinary means would surely be blinded by its radiance.

To Shirou's pleasant surprise, everyone else was already assembled.

The first he saw was Achilles, with his spear held casually against his shoulder. On the left side of Achilles stood a tall woman, garbed in traditional Aztec battle armor and clothes. Her grin was a fanged thing, full of eagerness and child-like excitement. Shirou noted how their hands were currently intertwined. On the other side of the hero of Troy stood Enkidu, looking as serene as ever.

Before them stood a vision of dark beauty; tall, with long maroon hair, and garbed in strange, bone-like armor covered in shining runes. In her hands was a crimson spear, matching the one strapped to her back, and dangling from a belt on her waist was a long, black wand, long side helmet of bone. Through her left vambrace shone nine crimson command seals. Her red eyes looked upon the masked preist with both dispassion, and barely restrained bloodlust.

The man standing next to her was dressed in archaic French clothing. Upon his shoulder was perched a large, emerald green grasshopper the size of a fist. Upon the grasshopper's body shone three seals, matching the ones upon the gentleman's right hand. Behind the strange pair stood Karna, quiet as ever, and yet, somehow, outshining the radiance of the room.

Chiron and Atalante stood by a figure that seemed to dwell on the brink between girl and woman, and the third Rider, equally as radiant as Karna, stood behind a black-haired man in black clothing, and a lazy smirk on his face. In the rider's yellow eyes was the confidence of a thousand kings.

Finally, there was a ragged-looking man with dead looking skin, and, behind him stood a tall Roman centurion, and Lancelot, who looked oddly somber, even more so than usual.

"Are we all ready?" Shirou asked the group, without fanfare.

Everyone nodded his or her agreement. "Good." He then looked to Mayasura who was currently standing in the center of the room.

"Let the attack commence. Tonight, the Black faction will fall."

With a nod, Mayasura raised his staff, and then _slammed_ it to the ground. As he did, bright glowing lines began to radiate outwards.

Meanwhile, Baba Yaga began to gesture, and spoke in a low and demonically arcane tone that brought to mind the howling of a blizzard wind….

* * *

The forest of Trifas, framed by the glowing range sky of the slowly setting sun, looked tranquil, warm, sleepy, and at peace, as these sorts of vistas are wont to appear in the sunset. All the animals of the daytime were beginning to settle into their various nests and dens and such, so as to allow those of a more nocturnal bent their chance to roam and stretch their various limbs and wings.

It was, in a word, serene.

But, that serenity would not last for long.

The ground began to shake, and from over the forest emerged a sight that would have either terrified any viewers into gob-smacked awe or sent the fleeing away in terror.

Through a large, glowing portal emerged a massive, floating city of gold that seemed forged entirely from gold and gemstones. To look upon it would like looking into the eyes of a living god.

With a thought from its creator, the floating impossibility floated forwards, towards the Castle of Millennia. As it floated forward, to the ground dropped a seemingly endless wave of bones, and precious stones.

Then, from the fertile ground sprouted massive army made of several different creatures and things; skeletal minions covered in protrusions and spikes and a large, eyeless mouth. The other portion of the army was made up of what seemed to be three separate races; one that was ugly, fierce-looking, and enormous, with two fangs procuring from the top of the mouth and sharp, claw-like fingernails; the second of the three were great and powerful giants that, though they looked outwardly beautiful, radiated an aura of wrong and evil. The final of the three seemed a strange and semi-divine fusion of the previous two, and, indeed, radiated anger and jealousy.

As one, this strange and terrible army began to march forward through the forest towards the Castle of the Black Faction.

* * *

 _Millennia Castle, night_

Though he lacked a Clairvoyance skill, Heracles' divine eyes could make out every last detail of the floating fortress. Even he had to admit that it was quite an impressive sight. He then turned to his master who sat by him. "It would appear that the Red Faction is invading with their entire domain. How very unexpected."

"Archer, can you tell me what their current status is?"

He stared ahead again for a moment longer, and then nodded. "They have just stopped. It is my opinion that they intend to use these plains as the battlefield."

Then, there came a voice from above. "So, it would seem."

Suddenly leaping down from the rooftop to land before them in an impressive acrobatic display was Darnic, who then turned to look at Heracles and Fiore.

"G-grandfather…" Fiore stammered, as she attempted to meet his gaze.

The King of Yggdmillennia looked rather different than before, though not to an unnoticeable degree. He seemed a bit taller, more built, and a bit more powerful than before.

To Heracles, it felt more than a tad unnatural.

The man looked at his granddaughter for a moment, and then made a gesture with his head. "Go back inside, little Fiore. As it is, we now have no choice but to entrust the battle to our Servants at this point."

"That is correct, friend Darnic!"

From the shadows of the Castle emerged Lancer, in all his glory. He was followed closely by Berserker, Saber, and Rider.

Darnic bowed to the founder of Rome. "My Emperor. The homunculi forces have all been assembled, and await only your command."

In the courtyard below, and around the castle itself, dug in and entrenched at strategic points, a most impressive assortment of soldiers was assembled, armed with everything form rifles to machine guns, and even medieval weaponry! Their armor was top of the quality, and among them were several great battalions of massive, stony golems, man of which had shoulder-mounted prana cannons, manned by solitary homunculi.

"The scouting homunculi have reported a large mass of bodies and enemy troops, along with the floating city, moving through the forest towards this position. They will be here within less than half an hour," Paracelcus reported, as he faded into view.

Romulus nodded. "What is the status of Rome's new forces, friend Paracelcus?"

"We have, at our current disposal, thirty thousand infantry troops, armed with a variety of firearms and melee weapons; twenty battalions of melee-based golems; ten battalions of artillery golems, and fifteen thousand specially designed cavalry riders, each mounted upon specially designed golem horses. They are all at your command, oh emperor Romulus. In fact, your own special mount has been crafted for your usage."

In the courtyard below was an expertly crafted chariot harnessed to four powerful golem horses, along with a homunculi driver. Lancer nodded in appreciation. "Very good, friend Paracelcus. You, Avicebron, and Darnic have done well!"

He then looked out towards the Horizon. "Send an order to the outriders and scouts to fall back and join the main force. It will do us no good to lose even a fraction of our soldiers.

"Saber, you two shall join Rome in the vanguard as we surge froth to meet the enemy."

"Very well."

"Rider, you will take to the skies with your magnificent chariot and harass any fliers that attempt to dive upon us."

"As long as either that chain bastard or other Rider shows up, then I'll be happy!"

"Archer, good cousin; you shall be given command of the artillery and the army proper. It will be up to you to harry our foes on all sides as they advance towards our position."

"It shall be done, King Romulus, cousin."

"Most excellent, my friends, most excellent indeed!" Lancer turned to Berserker. "Lady Raikou, you shall require no orders. All that Rome requires of you is that you unleash your great and powerful strength towards the enemy with all the might and fury that you can muster!"

Berserker smiled, as lighting gathered about her muscled frame. "Don't worry. Mother will make all the bad things go away, _permanently_."

With a final laugh at her rather chilling declaration, Lancer then catapulted down upon the courtyard, followed by Saber and Berserker. Rider remained upon the parapets, ready to move out at the order, as he fingered his dane axe.

With a proud grin, Lancer then ascended his new chariot. He then materialized his mighty and massive spear, and thrust it towards the horizon, and the approaching enemy.

"Forces of Rome Reborn! An army of monsters and things has gathered at the borders of our new Kingdom. As such, their very existence is nothing less than a grave offence to our Royal Person. But fear not, for IT IS HERE THAT THEY SHALL FALL!

"LET THE FOUNDATIONS OF REBORN ROME BE WATERED WITH THE BLOOD OF OUR ENEMIES! LET THEM FALL BEFORE OUR MIGHT AND SUPERIORITY! WE SHALL TEACH THEM THE MEANING OF FEAR AND DEFEAT! THIS I DO SWEAR, FOR WE. ARE. ROME!"

* * *

Despite himself, S1-E6 found himself raising his voice in great cheer alongside the rest of the homunculi soldiers.

* * *

Lancer then gestured forward. "NOW, LET US SURGE FORWARD, MY MIGHTY ARMY, AND FOREVER ENGRAVE OUR LEGENDS INTO THE ANNALS OF IMMORTALITY AND HISTORY! CHAARRRRGE!"

At that final declaration, the homunculi charioteer flicked the reins, and the chariot surged forward, followed by the Mounted Saber, the running Berserker, and the Homunculi cavalry, with the ground forces close behind, weapons raised and ready to fire.

From the parapet's, Rider let forth a piercing whistle, and summoned the chariot drawn by his loyal children. With a flick of the reigns, he was then speeding off into the night sky.

* * *

On the ground, well behind the army of the Red faction, Jeanne and Georgios sped after the floating fortress, the both of them garbed and ready for battle.

"What an awe-inspiring Noble Phantasm!" Georgios exclaimed. "But, are you sure the man in your visions is within that impossible city?"

"I am. In my heart, I know that the masked man from my revelations is over seeing this battle. Unless we confront him soon, he will bring death and devastation unto the world!"

* * *

From atop the fortress, Shirou observed as the two armies made their way towards each other. "And so, it finally begins."

* * *

 **A/N: Apologies for the very short chapter, and the long delay. Just getting back into the swing of things. Will give this story more love in the weeks to come.**


	7. Chapter 7

Sable and Scarlet Chapter 7

From the air, it would have looked like two massive swarms of multi-colored ants converging on one another. On the ground, it would have been considered nothing less than chaos, and they had not even collided yet!

At the front rode Romulus, the Founder of Rome. He raised his mighty spear high above his head and towards the floating city and the enemy, a wide and dangerous grin plastered on his face, whilst the point spear was a promise of almost inevitable defat fro the Red faction who had so foolishly sought to invade the seat of his new Empire.

At his side ran Archer and Berserker, whilst Saber galloped forward upon his snorting steed, his sword of flame in hand.

Closer, and closer, and closer did the two forces converge, even as bullets and arrows and blasts of energy were sent slinging from either side.

Then, with a sound akin to two titanic hammers smashing against each other, the armies of Black and Red collided, and the battle was truly joined!

* * *

High above, in the golden city, Achilles looked over the two masses. Then, he saw Rider of Black, speeding towards the city, and... wait, there was Archer of Black, Heracles! Oh man, who to pick, who to pick- screw it! For crying out loud, this was Heracles, after all! What kind of an idiot would ever be willing to pass that up!?

His decision made, The Adamant Hero lightly stretched, and then turned to his companion. "Well, time to get in on the fun! Coming, Quetz?"

His companion, garbed in a shining panoply of Aztec armor, hefted her macuahuitl, and gave him a fanged grin. "SI! Let us go forth and show them our true strength."

With a final fist bump, the two than leapt off the edge, each letting out a piercing whistle as they descended through the air.

Then, a moment later, they were soaring through the air, him on his mighty chariot, and her on her dragon!

* * *

Kairi liked to consider himself the type of guy who did not get easily frightened. After all, he had come face to face with Dead Apostles, Magicians, Immortal assassins, a cannibalistic forest, and even the freaking Magus Killer Himself. He had faced all of that, and, to his credit, he had not backed down, or broke down.

However, the situation that he was in now? He was, quite frankly, more than a bit terrified.

"Are you trying to get us killed, you maniac!?" He screamed, holding on for dear life as the car swerved to avoid an errant, crater-creating arrow!

"Shut up! It because you were too slow that we're late to the fun!" Mordred replied, her hands tight upon the wheel, and her foot all but welding the acceleration pedal to the floor of the car. How in all the holy fuck had he allowed here to talk him in to letting her drive!?

Kairi looked out the window towards the battlefield. Was that cannon fire, and freaking laser beams!? "You think this is fun!?"

"Quit yer bellyaching, and just hang on!" She then swerved so sharply that it felt as if the car was not even touching the ground, and, after avoiding the flaming remains of a large golem that had been sent flying towards them, sped off towards the battleground... towards the battle... and the lasers... and the cannon fire.

At that point, Kairi decided that the best thing to do was just bellow in terror, and pray to live!

* * *

Atalante looked down upon the battle below the floating city. Even from here, her sharp ears could easily pick up the sounds and screams. But, this was war. Besides, for her wish to come true, sacrifices had to be made.

The fleet-footed huntress raised her bow skyward, nocked two arrows, and pulled back on the string. "With this bow and these arrows, I respectfully request the divine protection of Artemis and Apollo."

The arrow-tips began to glow a dark green-black-and-purple miasma. "I offer thee this calamity...

 **PHOEBUS CATASTROPHE!**

With a breath, she sent the two arrows spiraling into night sky. A moment later, a thousand upon a thousand gleaming arrows swooped down upon the enemy.

* * *

As he battered aside a small group of enemy creatures, Romulus looked up to see the gleaming arrows, descending upon them all.

With a great grin, he raised his spear. As he did, from the ground sprouted mighty and massive crimson branches and roots, all aimed skyward to intercept the descending arrows with wooden thuds and explosions.

Still, a good few managed to bypass this mighty defense, and found themselves embedded into homunculi flesh.

* * *

Atalante raised her eyebrow at the Lancer's impressive display of power. Hmm, so perhaps long range would not be the best option. Time to get closer then.

With a grunt, she bounded off the ledge, letting membraneous skin sprout between her arms and legs and her body become light, as her Self-Evolution skill took effect, and she rapidly glided down to the battle.

It was purely through instinct, more than anything else that she managed to barely avoid getting splattered by the flying chariot of the Rider of Black. Damn it, that had been too close!

* * *

Vánagandr grinned as he followed the gliding Archer down towards the battlefield. He had been hoping that he would find that chain bastard or that green-haired punk, but this one looked tasty.

She would do as a nice little pick-me-up.

With a great burst of laughter, he set after her, through the sky, and through the clamor of the battlefield!

* * *

Romulus laughed as he waded deeper and deeper into battle, having sent his chariot off. This was what it meant to truly be a king, to fight in the thick against invading forces, and to drive them before one's might and measure!

Still, all he had fought so far were the pathetic skeletons and creatures. Where were the other Servants of Red!? He demanded a challenge!

So, he decided to send out his own! "Come, oh Servants of the Red faction! I, Romulus, Founder of Rome, demand that ye come and face me, if any of you mewling, pitiful invaders have the brass to do so! Come to me, and face thy deaths with some measure of courage and honor! If not, then the least you can do in recompense for your cowardice is to bow before me in supplication! What say you, oh craven Servants of Red?"

From the sky and ground, a burst of flaming arrows and earthly spears was his answer, all of which he battered aside with wave from Magna Voluisse Magnum. Joy, an answer!

Through the smoke emerged his opponents, the androgynous Archer, and the golden Archer, Karna. "So," the golden archer said, as he set his eys upon the founder of Rome, "You are the Archer of Black, Romulus?"

"Indeed I am. And you are Karna, son of the Sun God Surya! Rome's mighty cousin Heracles has informed me greatly of your strength, as well was yours, oh nameless Lancer of Red. Have you come to pledge yourselves to me, then?"

The Archer shook his head. "Forgive us, but no. We have come to kill you, but, be assured that it is nothing personal."

"Indeed," continued the Lancer of Red, as they crouched low, like a beast, waiting to spring. "Prepare to die."

Romulus looked upon them, the enemy Archer and Lancer, each quite powerful in their own right, powerful enough to even match Rome's mighty cousin! For anyone else, taking on one, let alone both, would be tantamount to suicide!

The grin of the founder of Rome threatened to tear apart the flesh of his mouth, and his laughter seemed to make the very stars themselves shake! "FANTASTIC! Rome is most pleased by your defiant answers, Servants of the Red Faction! Let this battle then be joined, and may our mighty sprits be elevated past Olympus itself!"

With a final shout, Romulus burst forward, his spear raised high and ready, even as as second barrage of fiery arrows and earthly spears was sent towards him!

Like before, he barreled and swatted and roared his way through them, and his spear collided with Lancer's fist with a great clang. His grin seemed to grow only wider! "Still, despite your brave answers, you are all criminals who have dared to trespass upon the lands that have been chosen to serve as the foundations for Rome's glorious rebirth! For that crime alone, YOU SHALL FACE MY JUDGMENT AND WRATH!"

At his bellow, his strength seemed to multiply, as he punched Lancer straight up into the sky, as the Founder then leapt towards the Archer of Red!

With a small grin on his face, the Archer gripped his bow, like a stave, and readied to intercept the mighty founder of Rome!

When spear and godly bow collided, the resultant sound wave, it shook the very ground in a burst of flame and power!

Through it all, Romulus was laughing! He was laughing as he and the Archer exchanged blows, as he gripped the bow tight so as to slam his helmeted head into the Archer's face, and he was laughing as he then spun on his heel to intercept the attempted sneak attack by the lancer of Red, with whom he parried a blow that would have crushed a mountain.

Through fire and crushing earth, he laughed as he made massive red roots shoot up from the ground!

His laughter echoed across the entirety of the battlefield, even as dinosaurs swooped down upon the ifeld teraing part homunculi, or being torn apart by golems and bullets and rockets and blades.

Through it all, Romulus just laughed.

* * *

With grim determination, Heracles bludgeoned aside monster after monster, all the while directing homunculi troops, or offering them cover fire with Nine lives. This was War, and he had to do his duty to his master and to his faction, without a doubt but... ever since his fight with the twisted figure of his beloved teacher, the son of Zeus had just felt... off.

The next thing Heracles knew, a chariot bulldozed right into him! It was only through the Nemean Skin and Goddess of War that he managed to catch it, and, his muscles straining against it, made it screech to a halt, and making the three horses neigh in annoyance.

Then, it dissipated, as its Rider smashed a kick to his face, whcih he managed to block just in time.

"It is truly an honor to meet you, Heracles! I am the Rider of the Red faction, and my true name is Achilles, son of Peleus and Thetis! Like you, I too am a student of the great centaur Cheiron. Let our battle be felt and seen all the way to the very hall of Olympus!"

Heracles blocked the Rider's jab with a bare hand. "A pretty speech, fellow hero of Greece! I just hope that you have the skill to back it up!"

* * *

Darnic watched the battle through his window, tighlty gripping his left arm as he did so.

 _Caster, it is time. Unleash our new Berserker upon his former allies!_

* * *

Avicebron nodded, and then gestured to the homunculi guards to undo the Black knight's restraints. As the last chains fell to the ground with a dull _clank,_ Avicebron looked over the Mad Knight of the Lake, who was... simply standing there, motionless save for the slight up and down of his raspy breathing.

"I assume that you require no direction for this, but I shall speak anyway..." Avicebron pointed towards the open gate. "Out there lies the enemy. Now go forth, and slay them all, noble knight."

* * *

 _Rage_

 _madness_

 _Sorrow-_

 _Wait. he could sense him... his king, or rather... the thing masquerading as his king._

 _He had to save him... he had to save his king!_

* * *

Suddenly, the Black Knight reared back his head, and screamed!

 **ARRRRRTHURRRRRRRR!**

Then, in a flash black mist, he was off, still screaming that name!

* * *

All her life, Atalanta had been a hunter. A predator. She had stalked quarry and various animals up and down mountains, over wide plains, across the great oceans, and even under the surface of the earth.

Never before, however, had she ever been prey.

This Rider of Black, he would not stop hounding her!

Anything she shot at him was just frozen solid by the energy around him, be it a fully pulled shot, or even a Phoebus Catastrophe!. Also, having seen how well he had fared against Achilles, she did not like her chances at close-quarters.

So, she kept running, and firing arrows, and he kept following laughing and cutting down anything that got in his way!

Then, a homunculi blocked her path.

It was only for a split second, even as it attempted to shoot at her. A split second was all it took for her to divert her atention away from the Rider, and rip the homunculi's head form its shoulders.

One second.

The rider grinned, and he threw his axe.

A second too late for Atalanta to dodge, or even see it coming, as she fell to the ground, even as she then tried to rise, only for the runes drawn across the axblde to glow, and send waves of pain bursting across her body.

The Fleet-footed Archer could not move, save for her head, as the axe had lodged itself right into her spine, and the runes were not helping.

From where she lay, she watched the wolf-like rider slowly approach, and could hear him licking his lips. "This battle and chase has been making me hungry, little lion girl. So, that makes you my first meal. How lucky for me."

The last thing Atalanta would ever see was Rider of Black standing over her, as his fanged jaws opened to an unnatural length….

* * *

Meanwhile, three grand titans battled for supremacy, and, bafflingly, one was managing to hold his own against the other two.

"Truly, this battle is exceeding my expectations with every passing second!" boomed Romulus, as he, Karna, and the Lancer of Red both paused in their bout for a brief moment.

All around them, their battlefield was nothing more than fire, craters, broken red roots, and shattered weapons made of earth and clay.

It was beyond impressive, how this one Lancer was managing to hold his own like this against the pair. His grin lessened a bit as he held his arms out wide. "Still, despite my joy, I find myself growing bored, Servants of Red! Is this truly all the might that you two can bring to the fore? If so, then I will do you a favor, and kill you right here and now!"

A moment later, his arms were suddnely ensnared in chains that had sprung from the ground faster than it took a millisecond to pass, and the chains led back to within the folds of Lancer of red's white tunic. Meanwhile, Karna nocked an arrow, as it and his red eye began to glow. "You talk too much, Child of Mars," said the androgynous Lancer. "Now die."

Archer then released his arrow. " **Brahmastra**!"

Yet, Romulus did not cower, even as the missile sped towards him!

With a mighty roar, Romulus pulled on the chains that were ensnaring his arms, stated aside the beam of red light from Archer's eye with his spear, and, to the shock of the Lancer of Red, it found itself being pulled towards Romulus' fist, and was then battered away, even as Romulus then swept aside a volley of flaming arrows from Karna, along with a flurry of blows from fist and bow.

After being battered away, the Chain of Heaven and the Son of Surya regrouped, and stared upon the gold-skinned King with more than a bit of shock. They both knew that he should have been unable to move in those chains!

"How... how were the chains of heaven not able to bind you?" Enkidu asked. "Are you not the son of the War god, Mars? Should your divinity not be exceedingly high?"

Romulus laughed. "Ordinarily yes, but I have repressed it, just as I did in life!" he shouted! "To rely upon the divinity in one's blood to rule is the height of folly and weakness! Kingdoms are not made to be forged from the benevolence and whims of uncaring deities! They are meant to be forged from the blood, sweat, tears, flesh, and bones of humanity! To be human is to be something that is beyond the scope of the gods! How could I hope to rule them if I am forced by blood to be apart from them!? That is not what it means to be a king, and it is something that Rome will not TOLERATE!"

In that moment, Enkidu could not help but chuckle, and that chuckle soon became musical peals of laughter. "How astounding. Truly, you remind me so much of my dear friend. I am honestly not sure if he would have respected you, or wanted to utterly eradicate you for being so similar to him. It's honestly infuriating."

Enkidu then crouched low, as the ground began to shake. "As such, I, Enkidu, will now do my utmost best to _eradicate you."_

"If you have the time to make such a declaration, companion of Gilgamesh, then you have time to fight, and you as well,

As he spoke, Karna and Enkidu could not help but feel entranced. "So, come at me, children and creations of the gods, and with all the might of Mankind, Rome will cast you down to the depths of Hades!"

As Enkidu and Karna sped forth, the Founder of Rome held his spear high, as it began to glow. "Now, witness the true might of Rome, invaders! For everything, EVERYTHING, leads to my spear, the tree of beginnings! Now, Fall before me...

 ** _Magna Voluisse Magnum!_**

The moment he slammed his spear to the ground, legions upon legions of branches and roots shot forth from the ground toward the speeding pair! Though Enkidu managed to weave through it, Karna was not so fortunate, and was soon impaled and ensnared with countless roots and branches.

Yet, he was not concerned, nor did he cry out in pain. Though this did not go unnoticed by Romulus, the Founder only threw back his head and continued to laugh, even as he pursued Enkidu, and proceeded to trade mountain-crushng blows with the Chains of Heaven. "It seems that this battle is drawing to a close, Servants of Red! Was this truly all you could muster?"

Karna simply closed his eyes, and shook his head as he spoke, knowing full well that the Founder of Rome could hear him. "Amazing, so this spear of yours, it represents your indomitable will and desire to further the boundaries of Rome, whither in the past, present, or towards the future, despite its birth resulting from the murder of your brother. Yet, despite its grandeur and promise, it is a barrier that I must tear down, so that this battle can be won."

Then, the demigod whispered. _"Oh Agni, Oh Indra."_

In the next moment, the world was naught but fire and lightning!

As if he had never been wounded, Karna alit lightly upon the ashy ground, his gaze calm, cool, and razor-focused.

Perhaps it was time to truly get serious.

Romulus was still laughing at the sight of his phantasms being so easily overcome by such power, and he was gripping his spear so tightly that his hands were bleeding. "YES! THERE! THERE IS THAT SPARK OF POWER AND DEFIANCE, THE SPARK THAT I ABSOLUTELY MUST SNUFF OUT SO THAT THIS BATTLE CAN BE WON! **SHOW ME MORE!** "

Enkidu smiled, as the ground then began to glow and shake, and Karna leapt into the air, his eyes glowing. "As you wish, defiant king," said the Chain of Heaven.

 **Age of Babylon!**

 **Vijaya: Agnito Mantra!**

* * *

 _Unknown_

Upon the bizarre and massive chessboard located in the center of the chamber, one of the red Archer pieces faded away.

"It would appear that we have lost Atalanta to the Rider of Black."

"It would indeed seem so, I'm afraid."

"Oh well."

They then returned back to the plan. "Is our friend in position yet for the second phase of the attack?"

"I have just received word… she is."

"Good, then tell her she can proceed..."

* * *

On the other side of the castle, hidden form the eyes that were watching the battle, a large portal slowly whirled into existence. Then, it's payload shot forth, spiraling towards the castle walls...

* * *

The battle was proceeding along well, Darnic mused. despite the heavy losses incurred by the homunculi, the enemy had yet to advance.

And yet... something about this felt too easy, too predictable.

Something was wrong.

A moment later, he was proven right when the castle started to shake, as something shot into it.

Where had that come from?

But, never mind, as he had to get to the Grail.

* * *

The moment that the object, some large cylinder, had impacted into the castle, and the lights had dimmed out, the soldiers immediately readied their weapons, and the castle went into complete lockdown. Luckily, the Father had bred them with the ability to see in the dark. Without hesitation, the ushered the royal family into the safe room, even as, all of a sudden, the sounds of screams began to emanate from their radios.

Homunculi, as a whole, did not get nervous or agitated. It was not in their brain chemistry. Even so, they all began to feel wary, especially once the screams stopped.

They then heard the sound of slow, almost lackadaisical footsteps.

It was a tall figure, clad in armor that seemed made of grey bone, purple cloth, rune encrusted steel, buckles, straps, and a maroon gown made of chain and leather. In her hand was a long red spear, matched by the one slung across her back. Blood dripped off the spear's edge.

At her side hung a simple leather bag, also now splattered with blood.

Without a word, the homunculi opened fire.

Almost lazily, the woman either deflected the bullets, or simply let them bounce and ricochet off of her armor, as she leisurely walked closer.

As she walked, she raised her hand, and a rune crafted of flames was sent hurtling towards E7I-R1, reducing her to cinders and ash.

Then, the woman's spear began to flash...

* * *

Fiore and the others huddled together. They had no idea what was going on. Grandfather was not with them, and neither was Caules, as both were elsewhere in the castle. Despite herself, Fiore hoped that they were safe.

On the other side of the door, they could all hear the screams of the homunculi as they died against the unknown foe. Should she call for Archer?

Then, it grew quiet.

1 second passed...

10 seconds...

1 minute...

BANG. Something impacted agasint the door, leaving a noticeable dent.

BANG

BANG

BANG

CRUNCH!

The door was then ripped clean off its hinges, to reveal the hallway to be gruesomely covered in the bodies of dead homunculi. In the center of it all stood a tall woman, garbed in ridged and spiked bone-like armor that was liberally splattered from head to toe in blood and viscera.

For a long moment, no one dared breath, as they looked upon this bloody fire, and she in turn looked at them. There had been almost fifty homunculi that she had killed. She was not even breathing heavily, as she walked towards the royal family, before coming to a stop in front of Fiore.

The woman then knelt before her, and removed her skeletal helmet.

Behind her, she heard Ophelia gasp in... pain?

Gordes smelled like he had just wet himself.

Her face was a beautiful one, without a doubt, even with all the scars that stretched across her skin, including what seemed to be the edges of a massive bite-mark that started on the bottom of her eyebrow, and stretching downwards. To Fiore's horror, most of the wounds, save for the bite-mark, all looked self-inflicted. The woman's long, maroon hair was bound in a few dozen intricate and plaited braids that reached the small of her back.

She then spoke in a husky voice. "I am sure that you can all guess as to why I am here, so I won't be asking any questions. Instead, just tell me where the Grail is, little princess, and please understand that if you refuse to tell me, then none of you will be leaving this room alive..."

* * *

This battle was passably boring, Saber decided, as he cut apart a squad of monsters with a single swing of Drynwyn. He wanted a challenge, somethat that would really make his stolen blod sing-

Wait.

In the distance, Saber saw... red lightning.

He recognized it, almost immediately, and a smile graced his stolen lips.

Finally, some fun, and what fun it would be!

* * *

Lancelot was doing his best to not kill anyone. Ever since that night in the forest, or, indeed, ever since his summoning, something about this war had felt off. He was just not sure what-recognized the red lightning.

She was here!? Mordred was here?! He had to get to her!

Especially if that Saber was going to find her as well...

Summoning up all his speed, the Knight of the Lake sped across the battlefield, still careful to not actually kill any of the homunculi.

* * *

 _He was there, he could sense him._

 _He would save his king, and nothing would stand in his way!_

* * *

The smoke cleared, and, to their amazement, the Founder of Rome was still alive, burned and peppered as he was with arrows and fire. He was still standing tall and strong, red branches having sprouted at the last moment to shield him from the brunt of the blast.

"Most excellent! Most excellent indeed!" He exclaimed, through a bloody mouth.

"How are you still alive," Enkidu asked, with an upturned eyebrow.

Romulus laughed at the Chain of Heaven's question. "FOOL! As long as Rome stands, whether in physicality or memory, then so too shall I-"

Suddenly, a great rumbling explosion cut his words short! It was coming in the direction of the castle!

* * *

With a few lazy swings of Clarent, and some burst of Red Lightning, Mordred swiftly destroyed any homunculi and golems that stood in his way. Still, he wanted a challenge, one of the Black Servants to fight! As the Son of the True King of Britain, he deserved no less-

"Mordred Pendragon."

The voice made Mordred stop dead in his tracks.

In his right hand, the enemy saber held a sword of white flame…. In his left, it looked like it was empty. Yet, when Clarent's edge clashed against it, he heard the clang of metal.

An invisible sword….

"Your sword… it's invisible, right!?"

The Black King said nothing, but simply breathed heavily; the sound was like that of a dragon's exhalation. Then, Mordred heard a smirk, and the air in the figure's left hand coalesced, and revealed….

It was beautiful, powerful, deadly, angry, ugly, and twisted, all at once. Black and gold and red. Mordred recognized it. How could he not?

Mordred began to tremble at the sight of the blackened sword in the figure's hand. "Who are you?! Why do you have that sword?! What have you done to it?!"

The enemy Saber chuckled once more, and then sped towards Mordred. With a bellow of rage, the Knight of Rebellion sped to meet him.

That proved to be a most terrible mistake.

The figure's swordsmanship was beyond immaculate, though also harsh, and unyielding. He left no openings, and both his blades seemed to move faster than Mordred's wrath-filled mind could comprehend, or ever hope to track. It was more through luck than anything else that he could parry any of the Saber of Black's blows at all.

But luck is ever destined to run out, especially in Mordred's case, as the invisible blade wove around Clarent's edge, bit deeply into his shoulder, and sent him crashing to the ground.

The next thing the Knight of Rebellion knew, however, he had been kicked in the stomach and sent skidding away, as the Black Saber slowly walked towards him. "Why... do you have that sword!? Who... are you?" Mordred asked, as he spat out a mouthful of blood.

The figure's head tilted, as if perplexed by Mordred's question. "Is my identity truly so unobvious to you, Mordred? Are you really that fucking dense, incest-spawn? Very well then..."

Mordred watched in shock as the figure stabbed his mighty swords into the ground, undid a few latches at his neck, then removed his helmet and let the piece of armor vanish into black motes between his clawed gauntlets.

The man's face could have once been called boyishly handsome, and it still was, but it was now harder, harsher. His slit, reptilian eyes were a pale and terrible gold color, with the sclera as black as pitch, and the slit pupils as white as snow. Black and red veins and scales coursed and pulsated across the white skin of his face, and down into his unseen neck and body, it seemed. His hair was somewhat longer with dark tips, and he also looked older than what Mordred remembered. On his forehead were the sharp stubs of what seemed to be antlers.

"Hello, Mordred Pendragon," he said, in a somewhat deep and scratchy voice.

Mordred could not believe the sight before him, as he slowly rose. "F…Father?"

The Once and future king's face twisted into a terrible grin. "But of course, incest spawn... who else would it be? Have you come to beg for forgiveness for your acts of treason agianst the King of Britain?"

At that statement, Mordred's face twisted into a grimace that went beyond the definition of anger and rage.

With a scream that seemed to reach the very stars themselves, the Knight of Betrayal sped forward, his form bathed in red lighting.

The enemy Saber seemed to just laugh.

* * *

Form the distance, Lancelot could see the twisted form of his king, and Mordred dueling, with great bursts of power intermittently lighitng up the sky.

Then, came two great shouts.

 **CLARENT BLOOD ARTHUR!**

 **EXCALIBUR ALBION!**

When the two waves hit, the air was filled with dust and debris, so thick that Lancelot could not see anything, and the resultant wave was so strong, it was a wonder taht he was able to remain standing.

When the dust settled, and he could see clearly, it came upon a scene that chilled Lancelot to his core, as he finally got within eyeshot of the battle. Both attacks had hit, and both recipients had not come out unscathed.

There was blood was dripping from the mouth of the King of Knights, a good piece of his cloak was tattered, and he was missing a pauldron, but he still stood strong, despite the slash across his breastplate which quickly healed and closed up, along with the other damage he had sustained.

Mordred looked far worse. Whole portions of her armor had been destroyed, along with bits of her flesh, and the lower half of her arm was covered in blood, while one eye seemed to have been blasted shut.

Before Lancelot could cry out, Arthur moved again, and, in the blink of an eye, Mordred was slammed to the ground, flat on her back, blood gushing from her mouth, with the King's foot on her throat and sword arm, and the twisted Excalibur raised over her chest, point-down.

"Excalibur Albion places wrathful judgment upon those who have strayed far from the good of Britain…. Like you, _Mordred_ , and you have been found most wanting. This fight was adequate, though the victor was never in question. Goodbye, bastard. I shall take great pleasure in your demise."

The sword point gleamed in the night, as it started to descend.

"Stop!" Lancelot found himself crying out. "I beg of you, my king! Stop this! There is no need for such cruel acts, even against her! So please, stop this!"

The Once and Future King paused before he could impale Mordred, and he looked up to Lancelot.

"Well, well," he said, as he lowered the twisted Excalibur, and looked Lancelot over like a cat would a canary, as the Knight of the Lake hesitantly approached. "Three traitors for the price of two. This is indeed turning out to be a most entertaining War. Tell me, have you come to beg my forgiveness, wife-fucker?"

As he spoke, he reached down, and grabbed Mordred by her neck, and lifted her up.

His hand was like a vice on Mordred's neck. Even with her great strength, Lancelot knew instinctively that the child of Morgana would not be able to break the King of Knights' grip. "Are you here to help me put an end to this traitor's life, oh knight of mine? If you do so, then I may actually forgive you for fucking Guinevere, and for causing the fall of Camelot."

Lancelot's eye's widened in horror-filled realization. This was not his king! This mockery was not the true Arthur Pendragon! So, the Knight of the Lake rushed forward to save his erstwhile ally, Arondight's edge gleaming with righteous and sorrowful intent.

Without even really looking, The King of Knights blocked the blow, almost lazily. The Saber of Black then bludgeoned Lancelot with Mordred's body, which sent the two knights tumbling to the ground, even as, from behind him, the Berserker version of Lancelot the Black knight screamed and careened towards the Pendragon from the sky, his own twisted Arondight held high.

It was as if the Saber of Black had not even moved and, in the next moment, The Berserker Lancelot lay upon the ground, all four of his limbs lying in opposite directions, and his roars were now mixed with screams of agony. A moment later, the torso went flying far away, courtesy of a kick from the Saber of Black, and trailing black motes as it flew away.

The Fallen King then looked upon Mordred and Lancelot-Saber, as they both slowly rose to their feet. "Very well then," he said, with a bright smile on his face, as he swung his two swords about. "Who wants to die next?"

* * *

This was not right. This was not right. He watched as Saber engaged the two enemy Servants, and it seemed so wrong to S1-E6.

With a flourish of skill beyond anything remotely human, Saber kicked away the screaming red knight, and then hamstrung the White Knight with his black sword, and then kicked him in the face as he fell.

Earlier, S1-E6 had been in the thick of battle, shooting or retreating when ordered. When he had seen the White knight, something within him had made him want to follow behind. Why, he had been the enemy, right? When he saw Saber move to engage the two Servants of Red, S1-E6 had felt compelled to assist

He then watched as a small group of his fellow homunculi joined the battle as well, no doubt to help Saber as well…

Wait…

In horror, S1-E6 watched as Saber then proceeded to cut them down, or used the other homunculi as living shields in his battle, including grabbing one by the neck, and using her to block a sword cut from the first Red Saber, splattering them both with blood.

All the while, he was laughing disdainfully, as if it were an amusing game.

Saber of Black was a monster.

And the soldiers of Yggdmillenia were supposed to kill all monsters and tyrants...

Steeling himself, despite his genetic programming screaming in his head, S1-E6 knew what he had to do….

* * *

Darnic watched over the computer monitors and hidden homunculi as the tall woman massacred anything that stood in her way, all the while striding to the Grail. She then reached into the bag at her side, and pulled out small orbs that gravitated towards and around the Holy Grail. As a student of history, he knew who she was. Thinking fast, he reached out through the mental link of the Black Faction.

 _Caules, foolish boy, can you hear me? Get Berserker down here, now! Jinkao, have Assassin activate her noble Phantasm!_

* * *

The mother paused in her rampage through the enemy, at the sound of her child's cll for help suffusing her being. "Very well! Don't worry, my darling boy, for mama is coming!"

In a boom of thunder, she was gone.

* * *

The witch calmly made her way towards the bottom of the castle, languidly slaughtering anything that got in her way. Finally, she came to the cavern where the Greater Grail was housed.

Huh, it was actually a little bigger than she had been expecting.

With a shrug, she reached into the bag at her side, and fished out several marble-sized orbs. With an arcane whisper, one after another did she send the orbs flying up to haver around teh grail, slowly enveloping in in a glowing field.

As she attached attached the last of the orbs around the Grail, the Warrior woman felt a displacement in the air, and then heard a yell. "You came here without permission, young lady! Now mama's going to have to punish you!"

With barely any effort, The Witch blocked the incoming slash with her spear in one hand.

She then shoved hard, and pushed the Berserker back.

With a mighty roar, Raikou sped forward in a burst of lightning. The Witch blocked each and every blow, save for one lucky strike that slashed across her arm.

As the blood flashed, the Witch grunted from pain. Then, without even seeming to move, Raikou found herself impaled on the cavern wall through the shoulder by the woman's red spear. It burned.

The witch then looked upon her bleeding arm... not with shock, but with curiosity, and even interest.

Very interesting. Something to dwell upon later, it would seem.

She then raised two fingers to her temple. _It's ready. You can reel it in._

* * *

Mayasura, upon receiving the message, flooded more power into the cities.

Down below, the earth began to shake as the grail was pulled up through the bedrock and up towards the sky and towards the cities...

* * *

The wounds on Lancelot's legs were taking too long to heal, and it was all he could do to crawl on his belly.

The king looked from him, to Mordred. Almost all of her armor was gone, as was most of her left hand and eye. The white sword was devastating indeed…

Suddenly, across the battlefield came a clear and audible voice, almost as if the speaker were right next to them.

 **THE GRAIL IS NOW OURS. THE BLACK FACTION HAS LOST. I SHALL GIVE YOU ALL ONE CHANCE...**

 **JOIN US, OR BE SWEPT AWAY IN THE FLAMES OF HISTORY**

In the distance, they all watched as the glowing orb rose towards the Silver city...

The twisted Arthur Pendragon seemed to mull over the words they had heard, then looked back towards them, and idly swung his swords about. "Such new possibilities. Now, Let's see… ignoring what jsut happened...who should I finish off first? The spawn of incest, or the wife-fucker who couldn't keep his sword sheathed?"

Before he could decide, gunshots began to ring out, dinging off of Saber of Black's armor. It was a... homunculus, missing his helmet, revealling his shorn brown hair to the night air. In his red eyes was a strange determination.

Saber of Black seemed to be more amused than annoyed, and then moved so quickly that, in the blink of an eye, he was right in front of the soldier.

Almost lazily, the Saber of Black cut the soldier's gun in two, and then his right arm, with his sword of white flame. To his credit, the soldier did not scream in pain, even as he was then lightly kicked to the ground.

"That was a very stupid thing to do, fake thing. Brave, but stupid, so you can die now while I attend to these two bags of piss and shit."

Mordred finally spoke, even as her sword shook from... was she afraid? "What… what are you? You're… not Father! Even Father would never be so monstrous!"

The face of Arthur Pendragon looked upon her, and then laughed mockingly. "Indeed I am not, you pathetic little fuck, though this is his body, albeit with a few… alterations."

So Lancelot's instincts had been right. "How? How did this… abomination come to be? Who are you!?"

The thing inhabiting the body of Arthur Pendragon spat on the ground. "You can thank my fool of a master, Gordes for what you see before you. He wanted a powerful Servant but felt ill at ease at the catalyst given to him by Darnic, and it was the Sheath Avalon, no less! So, into the summoning did the portly fool sneak the scale of a white dragon… more specifically, one of mine. As for who I am, well, I think that last statement has already told you..."

In that moment, Lancelot knew who it was that wore his king's face and body, and he and Mordred gasped in understanding horror. "Vortigern?"

The White Dragon of Albion, and the traitorous uncle of King Arthur, laughed, and for a moment, his voice echoed with a legion of others. "Correct! But, it was not just me who now inhabits this body… so do all the great and true Sovereigns of Albion and the Isle of Britannia, even your mother, incest-spawn, just as they rallied to me when I became the heart of England itself! At the summoning, we took hold of the body of King Arthur, and possessed his Saint Graph, so, voila, here we are."

He tapped Arthur's head. "They have allowed me, the White Dragon, to take the reins, while the rest of them are busy keeping the Pendragon Bastard shackled and contained deep in here."

Vortigern's smile then grew venomous and leering. "He still cries out, you know, and tries to break free every day. It's pathetic, and yet vastly entertaining."

It was a horror beyond horror, to Lancelot. His king, nothing more than a prisoner in his own body.

Mordred screamed, a hoarse, guttural thing of violence, rage, and… sorrow, as she dashed forward, Clarent raised high, and ready to kill.

All Vortigern did was stab his blades into the dirt, sidestep the blow, and then punch her, _hard_ , in the stomach, making her collapse to the ground. All the while, he just looked bored.

He stepped down hard upon Mordred's arm, and the crunch echoed through the air. "Do you know, that he still loves you, you disgusting thing, even after everything you did? Utterly pathetic! Were you my child, I would hate you until the end of time. Hell, I would have had you drowned in a bucket like the runt of a bitch's litter the moment you were born!"

Lancelot could no longer watch. Rising to his feet, his wounds barely healed, he raised Arondight, and dashed forward, hoping to do something, anything!

Vortigern grabbed the sword by its bare blade. "Very foolish, Son of the lake. Though, it was brave, I will admit."

With nothing more than brute strength, he shoved at the blade, forced backwards and down through Lancelot's shoulder, and then punched him in the face, and proceeded to kick and stomp on him for a bit.

"Stay down Lancelot, in the dirt where you belong. I will deal with you letter. Now, where was I?"

When he turned, he was met with an odd sight.

The Saber of Black looked upon the barely-standing homunculus soldier, despite the lack of his arm. His other hand then slowly drew his knife, and he was standing protectively in front of the downed Mordred.

Vortigern tilted his stolen head at the defiant Homunculus. "Oh, you are still alive. How amusing. You really are a very strange little doll. But, honestly now, I am bored with you. Get out of my way, little doll, or I will take your other arm."

"No, I cannot do that. I will not stand aside!"

"Oh? Even though you know you can't win against me?"

"I am a soldier of Yggdmillenia. I must defend the weak and defenseless from all manner of monsters and tyrants. I can't let you hurt them anymore. It is not right!"

Vortigern looked upon the homunculus for a long moment, his stolen eyes narrowed. Then, he started to laugh. He laughed, long and hard, as if the homunculus was the funniest thing he had ever seen. "How very amusing. Such bravery, chivalry, and valor from a doll! To take you form this world would most definitely be a disservice to the world! Tell me, what is your name, valorous doll?"

"S1-E6."

"A stupid name for a valiant thing. That will not do at all."

In the blink of an eye, the twisted Excalibur was already buried deep into S1-E6's chest, who then, after coughing up a mouthful of blood, slowly slid off it to the ground.

As the soldier lay dying on the ground, Vortigern looked upon the doll with amusement. "You alone among this rabble seem to espouse the virtues of chivalry, something that these two traitors have utterly failed in upholding. As such, I think you deserve a reward from the true King of Britain…"

With a smirk, Vortigern plunged his hand into the chest of Arthur Pendargon and ripped out a glowing, beating organ, which he then… shoved down the dying homunculus' throat, even as the tear in the Saber's stolen body soon closed up in a flash of gold dust.

"If you survive what comes next, brave doll, then come and find me. I could use a proper battle again, but, when you do, make sure that you have a proper and real name, else I shall be most displeased."

The Blackened Dragon King then let loose a whistle, and his terrible steed appeared before him. As he mounted the horse, he flicked the reigns, and the horse galloped away into the sky, towards the floating cities.

Meanwhile, the homunculus began to scream in pain...

* * *

Mordred raised a trembling hand towards the departing figure of Vortigern. "Give… him… back…"

* * *

Jeanne and Georgios watched in shock as the massive grial rose in the air towards the golden city. Without hesitation, they sped forward, and leaped upon several large pieces of rocks floating up towards the city.

Soon enough, they found themselves stadning on the outer courtyard. Everything was made of silver.

Wasting no time, they rushed into the first door they found. They sped through twisting hallways, and up and down winding staircases, following the strange feeling and sense of pwoer emenating from deep within the city.

But it was not the grail they were following.

Then, as they slowed down, they came upon a large atrium, filled with various statues and bas-rleif painintgs of flames and other religious iconography. At the center of it all stood a solitary figure, looking upon the stained window.

As the figure then turned to look at them, Georgios and Jeanne suddenly felt a massive pressure bear down upon them, making them crash to the floor.

As they spasmed on the floor, the figure looked upon them. "I was hoping you two would be here, Rulers of the Great Holy Grail War. I had been hoping to meet with you ever since you were summoned. It is truly a pleasure to meet the both of you. Greetings. My name is Shirou Kotomine Von Einzbern."

"You..." Jeanne gasped out. "What... are you? You're... no... magi."

"Indeed. You most correct, maid of Orleans. Though, I do have magi training. As for what I am? Well, that is a bit more complicated..."

In a disconcertingly casual manner, as he spoke, the Master of Red slowly pulled off his mask with a wet sucking noise… As he did, his form shimmered, and a much different figure now stood before the two saints.

The entire right side of his body was covered in gruesome burns, squirming black tattoos, and scars of all shapes and depths. The right side of his clothes were all ragged and torn. In some parts, exposed muscle and bone could be seen. His right eye was a ruined mess of a socket, and he had no right ear. The right side of his mouth was exposed, making it seem as if he were grinning with his teeth through gaping holes in his cheek. The left side was covered in strange, ever-shifting tattoos and shapes. His left eye was a glowing orb of flame.

Despite it all, his face was unmistakable, or, at least, the left side of it, to a certain extent.

Georgios looked over the masked magus in shock. "You're… me?" the dragon slayer gasped in confusion.

The thing known as Shirou Kotomine Von Einzbern smiled, as he knelt down to look at the downed Dragon Slayer. "Just like looking in a distorted mirror… As for your question, then the answer is yes, I am… Or, I was… in all honesty, after so many decades, I am not quite so sure anymore. A part of me is the Rider of the Third War, Saint George the Dragon Slayer. Another is, or was, the dying boy known as Aro Isemi, who summoned him. Then there is the irregular Servant of that War, Prometheus, the Saver-class Servant…. Finally, there was Avenger."

As the two rulers looked at this figure in horror, he continued. "Before the black mud, there were four. After they were bathed in its essence, there was only one…me.

"The Einzberns kept me about as a strange curiosity, an impossibility that should never have existed in the first place… a chimera of four beings."

As it spoke, he held up his right hand, and a small ball of flame formed in his palm. "Eventually though, I... convinced them to let me free... as well as allow me access to their vast holdings. So, I then decided to explore this world into which I had been birthed... and what I saw horrified me."

He sighed. "For a great while, I despaired for it, this beautiful world that is sinking ever closer to its own destruction. But, then, I came up with a plan. Only through being brought to the edge of destruction through absolute suffering and pain can the true potential of humanity shine. Only then, can Heroes rightly be born and forged. So, as in the past, I shall bring fire to humanity, and fromm the flames and ashes shall emerge something pure and beautiful, worthy of God's love."

"My compatriots agree with me as well. We have all the seen the world, from one end to the other, from every side of history, and have agreed that, as it is now, it needs to be… re-forged, remade. Only then can it truly be saved, and its people can ascend. And... I was hoping that you two would join me in this endeavor. Together, we can save the world. What say you?"

 **A/N: Read, review, and enjoy!**

 **Sorry if this chapter sucks.**

Saber of Black: Vortigern Pendragon (in the body of Arthur Pendragon) 

Master: Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia

STATS

STR: A

END: A+  
AGI: A

MAN: A++

LCK: B

N.P.: EX

 **Class Skills**

Riding: EX

Magic Resistance: A

Avenger: A

 **Personal Skills**

Charisma: A

Mana Burst: A

Instinct: B

Burden of Dragon-kind: EX

Heart of Albion: EX

 **Noble Phantasms**

Invisble Air: B

The Thirteen Treasures of Britain: E-EX

Excalibur Albion: EX

Red and White Dragon: EX


End file.
